Three Doors Down
by Jasperite
Summary: Harry didn't expect the summer after his fifth year to be anything special. But he also didn't know that an interesting new family would be moving in just three doors down. HPOC Rated to be safe.
1. Hold Me when I'm Here

Disclaimer: This never was mine and never will be. The Lindells are mine, though. If you really want them - ask.

Just awarning from theauthor - This story contains much fluff and philosophic conversations. Feel free to argue my points. I love a good debate.

Chapter 1 - Hold Me When I'm Here

Harry's good mood as he walked away from his friends quickly evaporated as the summer went on. All the letters from his friends were sympathetic-too sympathetic. They were so _patronizing_. He growled in frustration as he crumpled Ron's latest letter in his hand and tossed it across his room. They all seemed to think that he felt like it was his fault that Sirius died. They all went along the lines of _"Oh, Harry, don't feel too bad"_ and _"It was Sirius' choice, Harry"_ and _"He went the way he would've wanted to, in battle."_

Why couldn't they just figure out that he didn't want their sympathy, or their pity? All he wanted was some time alone so he could figure things out and get himself sorted out. By now Sirius' was more like a dull, deep, ever-present ache than the sharp, knifing agony that he had felt at first.

The problem with the ache of Sirius' loss dulling was that the horrifying prospect of his future had become even clearer. Harry was now fighting another battle within himself to try to come to terms with this new development. He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't even know if he was capable of such an act.

With a sigh he rolled onto his back to look out the window. The humidity of the day had not lessened as the dark clouds came rolling in, but it was obvious that the rains would soon come down, hopefully bringing in relief from the heat. On impulse Harry stood up and made his way through the house and outside. Harry made his way down the sidewalk, knowing full well that when it did rain he'd be caught in the middle of it.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he watched some moving vans pulling up to a house just three houses down from number 4. He'd known that the old Miller house was up for sale, and had been bought, but he had only half registered this fact. Now he drew closer, interested. A van drove up behind the movers and a man and his wife climbed out, shortly followed by four kids.

The first was a young man a few years older than Harry, well built with a kind face. Next came a girl of about Harry's age, with two younger siblings, twins by the looks of it, one boy and one girl. The whole family was dark skinned and had dark hair. It was the twins who noticed him first, bored quickly by the house and beginning to search their surroundings. They slipped over to Harry unnoticed by the rest of their family.

"Hi!" the girl was the first to speak, grinning up at him. For the first time in what felt like ages, Harry grinned too.

"Hey," he answered bending down so that he was at their level. "Are you going to be moving in here?"

"Yep," replied the boy. He had a distinctly American accent. "My name is Devon. What's yours?"

"I'm Harry," he told them.

The girl spoke up. "I'm Robyn. My older sister Tristan and brother Kurt are over there with our parents."

Just as the rain was beginning to fall the father strode over to them. "Come on kids, lets go inside and check it out." Seeing Harry, he added, "do you want to join us? It looks like it's gonna be raining cats and dogs soon." Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. He followed them into the house. Once in the door the older man turned to him and held out a hand. "I'm David Lindell," he introduced himself. Harry leaned over and took the proffered hand.

"Harry." He said shortly.

"Dad!" cried a obviously female voice. The teenage girl came tearing down the stairs to the front hall. Blond streaks were striking against her dark hair. The clothes she wore were punkish but appropriate, setting off the well-shaped curves of her body. Harry caught himself staring and blushed, but neither father nor daughter noticed.

"Kurt's taken over bedroom by the bathroom, and _I _claimed it on the way up!" she complained loudly.

"The early bird catches the worm, sissy!" proclaimed the young man who was now descending the stairs. "Too bad, so sad." He reached out and tugged lightly on a lock of black-gold hair.

Tristan aimed a couple of punches at his stomach and sent another flying towards his face. Kurt managed to block each punch and ended the quick scuffle by knocking her legs out from under her. Soon Tristan was glaring up at her victorious brother from her uncomfortable position on the floor.

"I thought that deciding who got which room was your mother's job," groaned their exasperated father.

"It was," the siblings said in unison.

"But she told us just to come straight to you," offered Kurt.

"After all, we'd just end up asking you eventually," continued Tristan, pulling herself up to her feet.

"True enough," admitted Mr. Lindell. "Alright, rock paper scissors, best out of three."

"You have got to be kidding me! Come on, Dad, rock paper scissors? That's so lame!" Tristan protested.

"You just don't want to do it that way because you know I'll win!" taunted her brother.

"Wanna bet, dog breath? Fine, I'll take it. Ready? Okay, rock-paper-scissors! Dammit!"

Harry couldn't help but smirk a little as Tristan instantly lost the first round to her brother – scissors to rock. When she lost the second time he laughed outright at the indignant look on her face.

"Oh, shut up," she scowled turning in his direction. He grinned at her as she registered that she had just ordered one of her new neighbours to shut up.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry – I was sure that it was just dad! I didn't mean to be rude. I'm so sorry," she apologized quickly.

"It's okay," Harry waved it off. "I've had worse said to me, that's for sure. I'm Harry Potter." He offered her a hand.

"Tristan Lindell."

"I'm Kurt," the older brother stepped in. He grinned at Harry as they shook hands. "So you're going to be one of our new neighbours, eh?"

"So it would seem," messy-haired young man answered dryly. "Where'd you move up from? I would guess the United States, maybe, from your accents."

"The U.S.? Hah!" Beside Kurt, Tristan threw back her head and laughed uproariously. Kurt didn't laugh outright, but a quirky smile played around his lips.

"No, not the U.S." he said, rather unnecessarily. Harry had picked up on that quickly. "We moved here from Canada."

Still a bit put out from the girl's laughter, Harry questioned, "But Canada's right above the U.S., isn't it? What's the big fuss about?"

"That's a bad question, my boy," replied Mr. Lindell. "The answer is both complicated and simple, and it could take all night to answer."

"The short answer is all about our Canadian pride," explained Tristan. "We enjoy being different from the U.S. There's a lot more to it than that, but it would take too long to explain."

"I don't think that I'm going to try to get into it," Harry answered. "I'm sure that I'll figure it out over time."

"Well that rain doesn't look like it's going to let up. I guess we'll have to finish unloading our stuff in the rain," announced Mr. Lindell from the doorway.

"Do you want some help?" Harry asked. "I could lend a hand."

"That would be great, but only if it's okay with your parents," Mr. Lindell said.

Harry shot him a rueful smile, "I don't live with my parents, I live with my aunt and uncle and cousin Dudley. To be frank, I doubt that they care where I am as long as I'm not doing anything to get them in trouble."

Tristan gave him an amused glance. "Do you often get into trouble?" Harry only grinned at her, and followed her father into the rain.

It took another hour to haul all of the Lindell's belongings inside. Fortunately, they didn't have any large or heavy furniture to bring in, mostly just boxes of personal things. When Harry asked about it, Mr. Lindell explained that they had sold their old things in Canada and were planning to buy new furniture here in England.

When the group of three – Harry, Kurt, and Mr. Lindell – had finished unloading, all were thoroughly soaked and somewhat cold. Mrs. Lindell swooped down on them in a manner reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley, loaded with towels and changes of clothes. She insisted that they dry off and change, and told Harry in no uncertain terms that he would be staying for dinner.

As they were shooed upstairs, Kurt smiled at Harry. "You've been adopted." He declared. "Mom's obviously quite taken with you. There'll be no escaping us now."

Harry laughed. "She reminds me of my friend's mum. She's always standing by with a hug and great food, and once she decides that she likes you, you're part of the family."

"Yeah, that's what my mom is like," Kurt agreed. "Use the bathroom to get changed. It's the next door down the hallway."

Harry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked at the clothes that had been unceremoniously dumped into his arms. They were obviously Kurt's clothes. They would be too big for Harry, but would definitely fit better that Dudley's clothes. Harry set the folded clothes on the bathroom counter and proceeded in stripping off his sopping clothes. He hung them over the curtain rail to dry, and quickly worked at drying himself off.

Just as he was finishing, the door swung open. Harry swore silently, realizing that he had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Well, he sighed inwardly; at least he had kept on his boxers.

Tristan froze when she caught sight of him, and a small "Oh," escaped her mouth. Harry felt his face burning as he fumbled for something to say.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Tristan after an awkward moment.

"No, it's alright-" Harry started.

"I'll just – go," Tristan beat a swift and undignified retreat, shutting the door behind her. Harry stood still for a moment before chuckling in an embarrassed way and moving to lock the door behind her. He dressed hurriedly and stepped out of the bathroom, his wet clothes wrapped in the towel that Mrs. Lindell had given to him.

Harry walked into the messy kitchen to find Mrs. Lindell setting plates of food on the ground where Tristan was setting up a sort of picnic area. Tristan glanced up and caught his eyes. Both blushed and looked away. Tristan stood and approached him with a sheepish look on her face.

"Look," she murmured quietly, "I'm sorry about that. I should have knocked before just walking in…"

"No, it was my fault, too," Harry acknowledged. "If I had any brains at all, I would have thought to lock the door."

Tristan laughed softly and then gestured to the scene before them. "No table yet," she sighed, changing the subject. "So this is what we've got to make do with. We're lucky that the stove came with the house, or there wouldn't be a hot supper tonight."

"You know, if it's too much trouble, I can just go home. I mean, you just moved in, and I don't want to intrude…"

"No, no, no," Mrs. Lindell cut in. "Absolutely not. You were did a marvelous job, helping out with those boxes, and we didn't even ask. Giving you some good food is no hardship at all, dear."

"Thank you, ma'am," the raven-haired boy nodded to her politely.

"Now, none of that. I hate being called ma'am. Call me Ann, dear. It makes me feel a little less old."

"But you are old, mummy dearest!" exclaimed her eldest son, appearing with the twins in tow behind him. David Lindell followed only a couple of steps behind the group.

"She's right, Harry," he said. "I would much prefer to be called David, if you don't mind."

"Alright…David."

"Do you need to call home or anything, Harry?" asked Ann.

"Er…I don't need to call home, but I would appreciate it if someone could tell me what to do with my wet stuff."

"Give it to me," Tristan held out her hands. "I'll shove it in the dryer – another one of those things that came with the house."

She walked out of the kitchen with his things as everyone else settled around the picnic area. The twins marveled at the idea of a picnic indoors and Harry shared an amused look over their heads with Kurt.

Tristan was back in the kitchen before long, and she settled down between Robyn and Harry.

"Let's say grace." David began. Harry copied Tristan, folding his hand and bowing his head as David began to speak.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for this day and every thing you have provided for us. Thank you for giving us safe travel and comfort as we leave behind our friends and family back home. Please be with us as we start a new life in a strange place. In Your Name we pray, Amen.

"Dig in," invited David, looking up. The family went at it with vigor, and Harry joined them eagerly. He was suddenly hungry, with more of an appetite than he had had all summer.

"So, Harry, tell us about the neighborhood. What's it like around here?" queried Ann.

"Well, there's a park right down the road and the elementary school's nice enough, I suppose. You should know that we have a bit of a bully problem around here, though."

"Really? And who are these bullies?" demanded Kurt sharply.

Harry winced slightly before answering. "My cousin and his friends, mostly. They like to pick on kids with no self defense. That used to be me, but things changed over the last few years."

"Did your aunt and uncle make them stop?" demanded Devon, across from him.

"No." Harry answered shortly.

"Why not?" questioned Ann, genuinely curious. Her dark brown eyes looked on sympathetically. Harry sighed softly, chewing on a piece of chicken before continuing.

"They don't like me very much I guess," he finally shrugged.

"Of course they do," asserted Ann. "You are their family. They probably just don't know how to show it."

Harry chuckled darkly. "Here's an example of how much they don't like me: before my parents died, they arrange for me to get my education at a boarding school starting when I turned eleven. When my aunt and uncle found out. At first they tried to stop me from going altogether, and when they couldn't do that, they told everyone that I went to St Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. So now everyone around here thinks I'm a criminal!"

"Are you?" Harry turned to Tristan with a look of indignation in his emerald eyes. She chuckled. "Don't worry – I'm sure you aren't incurable."

That made Kurt snort into his potatoes, and even Ann had to suppress a smile. Harry sat back and let his face fall into his palms. When he pulled them away again, he shook his head at her. Tristan simply smirked at him.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, the Lindells welcoming Harry with open arms, and Harry finding a sort of companionship with the family that he had rarely experienced in the muggle world. When dinner was over Harry rose to go home, thanking Ann profusely for the meal.

"No, Harry it was a pleasure having you. Do come back again soon, dear." Ann smiled gently at him. Tristan came up shaking her head.

"Your clothes are dry yet," she informed him, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "You'll have to come back tomorrow to get them."

Harry nodded. "I'll be back tomorrow, then."

"On a brighter note, it looks like the rain has stopped. See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Bye everyone, bye, brats," Harry responded, ruffling the twins' hair. They giggled as Harry walked out the door.

Striding back to number 4, Harry basked in the memory of the night. The Lindells might never know it, but their kindness had driven away the ache of loss and responsibi-lity for that night and Harry was eternally grateful for those few hours of respite. He realized with a start that he had almost laughed more in this one night than he had in the last month.

Please review. Every good author loves 'em. And I really enjoyconstructive criticism. Any suggestions or ideas on how to improve are welcome.

Smile:P

Jasperite


	2. Let Me Go

Disclaimer: Mostly not mine. Just the Lindells.

Chapter 2 – Let Me Go

When Harry woke up the next morning, he felt incredibly relaxed. It took him a moment to figure out why. As he stretched lithely on the small bed it hit him: he hadn't had any nightmares the night before. This in itself was remarkable. Most nights followed a bloody awful routine. Harry would wake up screaming, still in the throes of a painful and terrifying nightmare, with Vernon about two seconds from bursting through the door.

Vernon Dursley did not like his sleep being interrupted. He hated it. That was why he felt justified in giving Harry a good, sound slap to wake him from his fitful sleep almost every night.

This, Harry mused, must be the first time this summer that he hadn't woken up with an aching cheek and covered with sweat. It was nice. Unfortunately, he knew that it probably wouldn't last.

Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed with a groan, and stood up. He headed out the door and to the bathroom. Once inside, he pointedly locked the door and couldn't but grin, remembering the awkwardness of the night before.

After a short, yet enjoyable shower, Harry stood in front of a mirror, studying himself. _Too skinny_, he decided. _And too short. No muscles to speak of, or anything like that. Quidditch really didn't do much for a person's body, no matter what the girls say. But as far as my face goes, I suppose I'm all right looking. _It was true. Any girl would say it. He had a strong face, with a determined chin and eyes that any girl would swoon over. His hair had grown out more since the end of the school year and framed his face perfectly.

He was rather pleased with it, actually. The weight of his longer hair made it a bit less wild and also less reminiscent of his father. Anything that made him look less like James Potter was a blessing as far as he was concerned, though many would be surprised to hear it.

The sound of a door slamming dragged his attention from the mirror and made him wince. Dudley was obviously awake, and it wouldn't be long before he was demanding breakfast.

Harry dressed in record speed and was down the stairs before Dudley could say, "Freak." Without being asked, Harry pulled down the things needed to make breakfast and got started. He ignored the nasty complaints that Dudley vocalized, knowing better than to listen to the crap that the overgrown whale spewed on a regular basis.

Harry set Dudley and Petunia's meals in front of them, before turning to spread jam on the piece of toast he had spared for himself. Aunt Petunia shot him a disapproving glare but didn't protest. Harry didn't need to make anything for Vernon because he had left early in the morning for work.

With nothing to do until supper, Harry wandered outside, hoping to find something to do to pass time. Harry headed towards the park, chewing on his piece of toast. Footsteps behind him made him turn to check if any one was following him. It didn't appear like there was, but Harry knew better than to believe that.

_Of course there is,_ he thought with a dark scowl. _I'm still probably being followed by Dumbledore's bloody Order of the Vulture._ Green eyes closed in exasperation. Harry finished toast before demanding quietly, "Well, what poor bugger has the incredibly boring job of being my shadow today?"

"Relax, Harry, it's just me. Tonks," she added unnecessarily.

"Well, now that's settled, why don't you go and bugger off?" annoyance coated every word that dripped from his mouth.

"Come on, Harry. Be nice," coached Tonks. "You know that this is important. We've got to keep you safe."

"I can look after myself," retorted Harry. "Besides, Dumbledore has told me many times that Privet Drive is where I'm safest. Why should I need a babysitter on top of that?"

"It's always good to have a plan B," countered Tonks.

"Yeah, that worked really well last year," snapped Harry. "Go _away_, Tonks."

"No can do, Harry. Sorry, mate."

Harry growled in frustration, and turned on his heel, striding towards the park. He heard Tonks rushing to keep up, and a slight squawk when she tripped on a crack on in the sidewalk, but he didn't slow down for her. Once at the park he slid quietly into a swing. He sat for a while, silently contemplating. The mood was ruined however, when the sound of running feet and heavy breathing broke into his thoughts.

He looked up to see Tristan jogging towards him. Her long hair was swept into a messy ponytail, and she wore sports shorts with a tight tank top. These things, with her flushed cheeks made her undeniably sexy. He forced a smile at her and she slowed to a walk, pulling headphones from her ears.

Tristan sat on the swing next to him with an open smile on her full lips. "Hey, Harry!"

"'Lo, Tristan," Harry was uncomfortably aware of Tonks sitting on the picnic table across from them. Though he couldn't see her, he knew that she was listening in. _No privacy, whatsoever._ He thought angrily.

"What are you listening to?" questioned Harry, nodding to Tristan's headphones.

"Three Doors Down. They're one of my favourite bands. The song I was listening to before I saw you is called 'Let Me Go.' Here – listen," Tristan pulled the headphones from her neck and passed them to Harry. He listened to a portion of the song, amazed at how some of the lyrics sounded like they were written for his life.

He pulled away and handed the headphones back to Tristan. "It's – strange – how the lyrics in a song can really sound like they were written for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," agreed Tristan. "Sometime when I get depressed, it really makes me feel better to turn up my music and listen to something that explains how I feel."

"Like the lines in that song that we were listening to," Harry elaborated. He sang softly, "'You love me but you don't know who I am/ I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand."

Tristan joined in softly (and somewhat off tune), "You love me but you don't know who I am/ So let me go, just let me go!"

"Yeah," sighed Harry. "That's what I feel like a lot of the time." He thought of Tonks listening in and smirked inwardly. _Eat this, Tonks, _He thought. "Lately it's like nobody really knows me. They love me, sure, but they don't really understand who I am as a person. And they can't let me go either. They hold on to me so tight, when all I really need is some freedom."

"People from around here?" asked Tristan, dark brown eyes trained on his face.

"No," Harry answered, then, thinking of his Order Guards, amended, "Not really. You'll probably never meet them."

"From the way you're putting it, it sounds pretty serious," Tristan commented, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"It is, I suppose," admitted Harry. "But I've been dealing with it for so long, I guess I don't consider it very important any more."

"Well," said Tristan, "If you want to look on the bright side, they aren't here now, are they? You should enjoy your summer of freedom with out them."

Harry smiled, albeit somewhat bitterly, and stood. Tristan was only a few seconds behind him. She wiped her bottom off quickly and straightened to smile at him. "If you want you could come to my house and grab your things. They're definitely dry by now."

Harry laughed quietly and nodded. "Sounds good to me," he assented. They began the walk to her house at a leisurely pace.

"Tris," Harry began.

"Mmmhhm?"

"Sorry to unload on you like that. I mean, I've barely known you for a day and here I am, pouring out my heart and soul to you."

She threw back her head and gave a full, rich laugh. Harry could feel his insides churning, and wished they would stop. "It's okay, Harry. I don't mind at all. It sounds like something that you needed to say for a long time. Besides, one of my friends back in Canada once told me that I'm a very approachable person. That isn't the first time someone's unloaded on me and it won't be the last."

She grinned at him before adding, "But remember, this means that you aren't allow to turn me away if I ever want to unload on you!"

"Done!" declared Harry, stopping to offer her his hand. They shook firmly before continuing on.

"So, do you go running every day?" questioned Harry, after a brief pause in conversation.

"No," Tristan shook her head. "Three times a week. I go Sunday evenings and Tuesday and Friday mornings. The Sunday run is pretty much set in stone, but the other two switch sometimes."

"How far do you run?"

"Er…about five kilometers, give or take a kilometer or two. Sometimes it depends on how energetic I feel on the particular day. It sucks though. Back home I had a girl who lived next door who would go running with me in the morning. Now all I have is my music. I mean, I love my music, right? But I miss having someone to talk to."

"You must really miss Canada," commented Harry. "I can't imagine what it would be like to move and leave all my friends behind."

"It's…hard," admitted Tristan. "Suddenly you're millions of miles away from everything familiar, you've lost all your routines and things that made home into _home. _You know? It's not easy to start all over just when you thought you had everything made."

Tristan turned her face away for a moment, brushing away a stray tear. She turned back a second later, her face set and emotionless.

"When do adults get off always thinking they know best for you, huh?" demanded Harry. "They go and screw everything up and then smile at you and say 'isn't this wonderful? You're going to thank us for this, trust us.'"

"No kidding, eh? They can be so stupid!" agreed Tristan vehemently.

"Jerks!"

"Morons!"

"And they're so stinking clueless!"

"No idea of what we think, at all!"

"They should just stop screwing around with our lives!" Harry exclaimed.

Abruptly, Tristan sank to the ground, laughing. Harry wasn't far behind. When they had both calmed down, Tristan reached over and kissed him briefly on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry, I needed that."

"No problem." He answered. The slim teenager stood and held out a hand to Tristan. She accepted and allowed Harry to help pull her to her feet.

"So," Harry cleared his throated after walking for a few moments in silence. "I can't promise that I'll be very good at it, but would you be interested in having me go running with you sometimes?"

The smile that she answered with was more than enough of a reply.

When Harry finally exited the Lindells' house with his now-dry clothes from the night before in hand, Tonks was waiting to ambush him.

"Harry…"

"Leave me alone, Tonks," answered Harry shortly.

"No, Harry, you listen to me," Tonks shot back sharply. Harry was taken aback at the normally cheerful auror's tone and stopped, looking at the area where he knew she was standing in surprise.

"Hestia Jones was the one guarding you last night, and she reported at the Order meeting this morning that not only did you go talk to some unknown strangers, but you went into their house without even considering that they could be supporters of the dark side. Everyone was very concerned that you wouldn't try to protect yourself from thing like that-"

"Tonks!" interrupted the fuming teen. "Don't be ridiculous! They aren't even a wizarding family, for Merlin's sake! What is there to protect from?"

"That's just it, Harry. You never know what could be around the corner. You've _got_ to be more careful!"

"Careful to the point where I can't even make a friend? They're a perfectly normal family, Tonks! Tristan's…" Harry stopped for a moment, choking on his words. But a second later he was plowing ahead. "Tristan's the closest thing I've ever had to a friend down this road, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let this opportunity pass up.

"I _need_ someone. I can't expect to make it happily through this summer with out someone to talk to and laugh with. And, no, my cousin will not work. So don't bother asking. The Lindells make me feel accepted and I don't even have to be the bloody boy-who-lived to get that!

"Just…" Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. "Don't ruin this for me, O.K.? All I'm asking for is this one small thing. That's_ all_."

Harry walked on, shoulders hunched as if to ward off some kind of blow, though whether it was verbal or physical, Tonks didn't know.

She followed in silence for the rest of the walk to number four. However, just as Harry was about to step inside, she asked, "Are you really going to go running with her?"

"Yes!" snapped Harry irritably, slamming the door behind him.

"Sheesh," muttered Tonks, positioning herself comfortably on a stone wall. Her attention shifted briefly when she caught a whiff of an unpleasant odor. You could always tell when Mungdungus was the last one to use something.

Though no one would be able to read it on his face, Albus Dumbledore was worried. There were certainly enough things to worry about. The war had only just started, and things weren't looking good for the Order and their allies. Death Eaters were picking off anyone who supported the light almost at will. Already two members of the Order had been killed in a couple of the scraps that had taken place with Voldemort's forces.

Thankfully nothing truly serious had happened yet. Public places such as Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley hadn't been targeted so far, though Dumbledore suspected that they would be attacked before the summer was out. Of course, the implications of war in the wizarding world had now fully set in, and the pressure the elderly man was under was incredible. It seemed that everyone in the wizarding community was relying on him to put an end to the whole fiasco.

The ministry owled him constantly to get his approval on actions that needed to be taken, and insisted that he help them with the many political dilemmas that had popped up since the revelation of Voldemort's existence was admitted by the ministry. Not to mention that he needed to deal daily with the concern of many worried parents who inquired about the safety of the Hogwarts grounds and building.

To deal with those things along with leading the Order of the Phoenix made for a difficult and exhausting summer and it had barely even started! And now there was this business with Harry…

It didn't surprise him that Harry was rebelling against his authority. In fact, it would be worrisome if the young man didn't – Harry's spirit showed that the events that took place at the end of the school year hadn't broken him irreparably. But Harry's rash actions could put him in serious risk if he didn't start to curb his anger and impatience.

The headmaster rubbed his chin with a forefinger. With any luck, Harry would sort himself out without Order intervention. Dumbledore quickly concluded that with Harry's attitude the way that it was, it would perhaps be best to simply give Harry his space, and only bother him with a few small reminders to be cautious. The next time he came in contact with Harry's young friends, the elderly man would encourage them to continue to write to Harry with words of caution and cheer.

This decided, the man rose from his plush office chair and took up a handful of floo powder. He didn't dare leave the Ministry to it's own devices for a moment longer, knowing what incompetent children they could be.

Well, there are certainly a lot of issues addressed here. In case anyone is wondering, updates will probably be weekly. It depends how motivated I am. Once again, constructive criticism is welcome, along with suggestions and opinions.

Smile

Jasperite


	3. The Real Life

Disclaimer: Same as the last chapter. All I own is the Lindells. All else belongs to J.K. Rowling and Paramount a

Chapter 3 – The Real Life 

The sun was already streaming in broken rays through the window of the small window when Harry woke and dressed for his run with Tristan. He had been running with her for a little over a week now. This would be their fifth time out together.

Harry had started off slow. Tristan had been forced to reduce her usual routine drastically. Harry, after all, wasn't in particularly good shape. Despite his many escapades and his talent at quidditch, Harry hadn't ever really needed to train for anything that needed stamina and strength. Quidditch was more about reflexes than strength. But the extra physical assets would certainly have been helpful in the many events that had taken place over the years. In retrospect, Harry had to wonder why Dumbledore hadn't encouraged him to train and increase possible advantages, especially since he was the one who knew what Harry would eventually have to face.

Harry, however, had quickly abandoned that train of thought in favour of basking in the pleasure that came from his enjoyment in those habitual runs. Even though he had started out slow, it wasn't taking him long to catch up. Tristan had dubbed him a 'natural' at running and he was gradually building up his endurance. He was certain that in another couple of weeks he would be up to scratch with Tristan. When that happened, they both hoped to start increasing their distance.

Probably the only thing that Harry didn't enjoy about the exercise was that he had to exert himself so much so early in the morning. Their daily ritual started at seven in the morning, usually on Tuesdays and Fridays. They were normally back at home around eight AM.

It was currently two minutes to seven and Harry was hurrying out of number 4 to meet Tristan. The Friday morning air was crisp and fresh. Harry breathed it in deep as he strode to the gate of his house, where Tristan was waiting for him.

"Morning," she greeted him with a welcoming smile. Harry only yawned in reply. Tristan laughed, breaking the muffled silence of early morning.

"How far today?" questioned Harry as he stretched in preparation.

"The usual, I suppose. About five kilometers. Just tell me if you need a break," instructed the brunette. Harry nodded in acknowledgement.

"Ready?" asked Tristan a couple minutes later.

"Yep."

"Good. Let's go then!"

"So," conversed Harry as they set off, "How's it going with all your new furniture?"

"Good," answered Tristan. "Our bedrooms and the kitchen are pretty much finished. All that we really need to focus on is the living room."

"Did you get that new dinner table that your Mum was so excited about?"

"Yeah, they delivered it Wednesday. Mom was so happy to finally be able to get rid of that ancient thing we were using. By the way," she added, "Mom told me to invite you over for breakfast after our run. It should be good. Bacon, eggs and fresh blueberry muffins!"

Harry felt his mouth watering at the thought of the meal. His idea of a normal breakfast was usually not more than a piece of toast, and therefore this was an opportunity that he couldn't afford to pass up.

"I'm already there!" he informed Tristan with a grin. She laughed.

"I thought so. Just like my brother! Mom's going to be all over you, you know. I can already hear her. '_Look at you! You are much to skinny! Here, have a fourth helping._'"

By the end of their run, Harry was dripping sweat. He pushed himself hard so that he could keep up with Tristan, and after their runs his muscles could get incredibly sore. His one consolation, however, was knowing that the order members that had to follow him in his morning exercises had to keep up with Tristan's pace, too, and they were forced to struggle with an invisibility cloak besides.

Harry made a quick stop at number 4 to take a shower and change into clean clothes before heading to Tristan's for breakfast. Kurt was the one who opened the door for him when he knocked.

"Hi," yawned Kurt. "Come in, and settle down. Tristan's just finishing cleaning herself up, and breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes."

"Thanks," Harry answered, stepping in. He slipped quietly into the kitchen and took a seat at the loaded table. He could feel his stomach starting to ache in anticipation of the food in front of him.

"Good morning, Harry!" Ann greeted him cheerfully. "And Kurt! What a wonderful surprise! I'm not sure whether or not you actually live in this house some mornings."

"Mom!" The eighteen-year-old protested when the older woman kissed him soundly on the forehead. Harry snickered.

"Lea' me 'lone," sulked Kurt.

"Need some coffee, Kurt?" Tristan teased. She entered the kitchen still drying her long hair.

"Yes." Kurt answered shortly. Tristan poured a cup of coffee and inquired, "Harry, you want some?"

"Er…sure," came his uncertain reply.

"Sugar or milk?" She turned to face him. "Harry…you have tried coffee before, right?"

"Well, not exactly," Harry hedged. Tristan rolled her eyes.

"So that means lots of sugar and some milk," the girl sighed in exasperation. She carried the cups over to the table and set the unsweetened one in front of Kurt and slid the other one to Harry. He took a sip and promptly choked on it. Brother and sister both chuckled at his expense.

"Tastes awful at first, doesn't it? It's the kind of drink that you need to get used to. Like beer," confided Kurt.

"Kurt!" scolded his mother.

"Kurt's a bear in the mornings. And heaven help you if you don't let him have his coffee." Tristan was only too happy to elaborate.

"No wonder," Harry retorted dryly, making a face at the coffee in his own hands. After considering the liquid for a few moments, he ventured another sip.

David and the twins came soon after. Ann served out the bacon and eggs, instructing them to help themselves to muffins and toast.

"No wonder you're all so cheerful all the time," commented Harry midway through the breakfast. "If I had a breakfast like this every day, I'd be in a permanent good mood too."

"Nah, this is a weekly thing. Every Friday morning in the summer we have a big family breakfast. Like pancakes, or waffles, or eggs, you know? But most of the rest of the time we have to fend for ourselves," explained Devon, before stealing a piece of toast from his twin sister.

"And as far as being in a cheerful mood goes – well, take a look at Kurt right now. That's definitely enough to prove that theory wrong," smirked Tristan. Kurt threw her a look that could smash a mirror and returned to nursing his coffee. "See?"

"Well," drawled Kurt in retaliation, "if you really want to see temper you should see Tristan when she's having a hissy fit. What a brat!"

"At least I'm not in a rotten mood every single morning!" exclaimed his indignant sister. "And I haven't had a hissy fit since…"

"Mom and Dad said we were moving?" returned Kurt cockily.

"That's enough you two," interrupted Ann.

"Listen to your mother," agreed David. "And since you're obviously completely awake, Kurt, you can help me unpack the stuff in the basement."

"What?" spluttered Kurt. "What about Tris?"

"Tris is having friends over," Ann replied. Tristan shot him a superior look. "And besides, Tristan's going to help me with the office and living room later tonight."

Harry choked on his coffee for the second time that day. But this time it had nothing to do with the taste of the coffee.

Breakfast finished well before nine o'clock. Kurt went trudging after his father towards the basement, slightly better natured after two cups of coffee. The twins mysteriously disappeared before their mother could peg them with cleaning up the dishes. Harry offered to help, but Ann shooed him off with an amused laugh.

Tristan and Harry retreated to her bedroom. Tristan hurriedly picked up a few items of clothing from the floor and tossed them in her closet. She quickly made the bed and then looked hopelessly at the few random boxes that littered her room. Shrugging, she turned to Harry.

"You'll just have to ignore the boxes. I'm not totally unpacked yet," she explained.

"Better than my room," Harry replied absently, looking around.

"Um, Harry, I wanted to ask you…I'm going to have some people over for a bit today, and then we're going to go to bowling. It's going to be my "meeting people" thing. Can you come?" Tristan asked abruptly.

"Er…" delayed Harry.

"It's okay if you don't want to," Tristan hastily assured him. "It's just…you're the first person I got to know here, and it would be nice to have you along."

"No, I'd love to come, it's just…well, I have a lot of chores I have to get done, and I usually need to let the Dursleys know ahead of time if I'm going anywhere," Harry clarified, thinking of the Order. He couldn't imagine how angry they would get if he just upped and went bowling with a bunch of unknown people.

Not to mention that doing that would be undeniably stupid. It would be incredibly easy for Voldemort or a Death Eater to reach him in such an open and unguarded place. But, still. It was nice to know that Tristan wanted him along at all. Gave him one of those warm fuzzy feelings. And he'd take that any day to the cold spiky feeling he kept getting from his "family."

"So, next time, let you know earlier, eh?" said Tristan ruefully. "O.K. But you can meet a couple of my new friends anyway. Del and Matt should be over soon. They were going to come over early."

"Matt…what's his last name?"

"Shetterly. Him and Del were at the movie rental place down the street few days ago, and we hung out a bit. He was the one who organized the bowling thing so I could meet more people." Harry wasn't prepared for the jealousy that bit at him when he listened to Tris talk about Matt. _This is ridiculous._ He thought._ I have no claim on her at all. She can go out with whoever she wants. I've barely known her for two weeks!_

"Yeah," He answered outwardly. "I think he was in my class in elementary school. I don't remember much about him though. And I've never meet anyone around here named Del."

"Tris, your friends are here!" Ann called up the stairs.

"Well, here's your chance to meet her! Com'on!" Tris bounced out of the room with her usual energy. Harry followed at a slower pace.

He took in his first look at Tris' new friends quickly. Matt hadn't changed a lot since Harry last remembered seeing him. He was still long and skinny, with his light brown hair cropped close to his head.

The girl was pretty much average everything. Her height, weight and appearance weren't particularly noticeable. The one thing that did stick out about her was her hair. It was a long, cascading, brilliantly blond waterfall. Harry recognized her instantly.

"Delilah Polkiss, right?" he stated somewhat coldly. He had been on the receiving end of her brother's fists many times.

Delilah bit her lip. "Bloody hell," she grimaced. "You're another one of those blokes that Piers is always picking on. Look, I'm really sorry for anything that my brother has done to you. And in my favour, I am not my brother, so please don't judge me by him."

Harry opened his mouth to make a scathing retort, but quickly realized his hypocrisy in the situation. Why should he expect Snape to treat him fairly if he judged Delilah by her brother the way Snape judged him by his father?

So instead he offered Delilah a hand, and allowed a smile of acceptance to cross his lips. She smiled back and took his hand in a firm shake.

"Wow, that was tense," commented Tristan. "So I guess that you do know Del, Harry?"

"Not exactly. We never really got to know each other. Delilah was in the class under me in elementary school."

"Hey, I remember you now! You're Harry Potter, aren't you? Dudley Dursley's cousin?" comprehension bloomed on Del's face.

"Unfortunately," scowled Harry. Delilah grinned in appreciation.

"Yeah, he's a right bastard, isn't he?"

"Don't you go to that school for criminals?" Matt cut into the conversation, studying Harry's face. A slight wariness was painted across his sharp, thin features.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "That's what my aunt and uncle like to say, but I actually go to a boarding school. They just don't like to admit that I'm getting a better education than their darling 'Duddykins.'"

Matt nodded, clearly satisfied but not entirely convinced of Harry's towering righteousness. He offered a bony hand to Harry who took it without hesitation.

"I'm Matt Shetterly," he introduced himself.

"I remember you. You got a detention for sending Kayla Green love notes," Matt snorted good-naturedly. He retorted, "I wasn't the one who climbed onto the roof of the school kitchens, was I? I bet that the entire school heard the Headmistress shouting at you."

Harry chuckled, and explained to Tristan, "Long story."

"I'll bet," she answered, raising her eyebrows.

"So, are you coming with us today, Harry?" questioned Del. He shook his head.

"No."

"To bad. It's going to be fun," Matt looked at Tristan. "We've invited a few of our friends along, so there'll be lots of people for you to meet. I'm sure you'll like them, as long as you don't mind some craziness."

"Don't worry. I am crazy and crazy is me. I can take anything that you throw at me," Tristan stuck a brave (and completely ridiculous) pose.

"We'll see," was Matt's only response.

Harry left less than an hour later, on the excuse of chores. Listening to the three talk about their plans for the afternoon had left an unpleasant feeling of simmering jealousy in the pit of his stomach. He had never so desperately wanted to be a normal muggle. Even just a normal wizard would work for him.

He ached just thinking about how much he wanted to be able to worry only about mundane things like his homework, making friends, or whether the girl he liked fancied him back. His next thought was how _pathetic _it was that he considered things like that mundane. He could think of any number of people that believed that those things were some of the most important issues in their life.

He sighed, ignored the urge to snap at whoever was following, rather loudly, behind him, and strode down the walkway to number 4. He tried not to pay attention to the dead weight that had settled in his chest as he entered the house and ascended the stairs to his room.

Hedwig hooted softly to him when he walked in, holding out her leg.

"Hey, girl," murmured Harry. He quickly untied the scroll from her leg and gave her a little petting and a couple of owl treats before sitting down with the letter.

The heartfelt letter from Remus wasn't particularly long, and Harry decided to give a go at reading it. Remus was, after all, the closest link that Harry had to his parents and Sirius.

_Dear Harry,_

_It's pretty lonely here. Most of the Old Crowd are out on business all the time, so things can get pretty quiet. I'm between projects right now, and my "moon time" just finished, so I pretty weak and not of any particular help to anyone. I'm sure that Molly's good cooking will get me back on my feet in no time, though. _

_I'm told that I'll be seeing you in a couple of days. I've heard through the grape vine that you've been getting in quite a bit of exercise lately. Should I be preparing for anything?_

_Write me back and let me know how things are going with you._

_Yours, _

_Remus_

_PS. And I'll have none of that "Professor Lupin" nonsense from you. I haven't been your Professor for years. Please call me "Moomy" or "Remus."_

Harry felt oddly touched by the letter. It was kind, to the point and sympathetic. However, it was obvious that Remus wasn't trying to coddle or pity him. The way it was phrased, so carefully and yet so carelessly, made him feel like he wasn't expected to break or throw a temper tantrum.

The letter had also made him register the fact that he wasn't the only one who had suffered from the events of the fiasco at the end of the school year. Sadness coated the letter, though Harry knew that Remus never intended it to show through.

And it was through these things that Harry felt a niggling urge to write Remus back. So he sat at the wobbly desk that balanced in the corner of his room and began to write.

The words came with shocking ease. And, when Harry reread it, he was surprised at how much he had spilled onto the thin piece of parchment. He tied it to Hedwig's leg hesitantly, uncertainly, not entirely sure that he wanted bare his emotions to anyone. He was also inexplicably unwilling to take back the letter.

So, late that evening, Hedwig took off from number 4 with Harry's letter tied securely to her leg.

_Dear Remus,_

_OK, I give. No more "Professor Lupin" stuff. So you've heard about my exercise? It's harsh sometimes, but it's good for me to get into shape. You never know when something like that could come in handy. And the girl that I exercise with is turning out to be a good friend. It's nice to have a bit of time to feel normal. No one here treats me like the boy-who-lived and all that. _

_The only thing that sets me on edge is these guards. It really bugs me having a bunch of invisible people hanging over my shoulder. I know that it's kind of important, but I'd be grateful if you let people over there know that I'm a teenage boy and I would really appreciate it if they would back off and give me some privacy. _

_Sorry for taking this out on you. I know that it's not your fault, but there's not anyone here that I can explain this to. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode from holding it all in._

_I wish that I could just stand up and face it. After what happened in the Department of Mysteries, I think I kind of woke up the real life. There's a war going on, and soon Voldemort will be everywhere. What's the point of running from Voldemort when there's nowhere left to hide?_

_I need to get ready for this war, Remus. I need someone (not Snape) to teach me how to face what's going to happen. I was actually wondering if you could talk to Dumbledore for me about some kind of training program for when I get back to Hogwarts. _

_Make sure that you stress the fact that my teacher can't be Snape. I don't think that we'd get anything productive done. I would really appreciate it if you would do this for me, Remus._

_Take care,_

_Harry _

Hello everyone!

Here a note to let you know that the next chapter may take longer in coming. Exam time and all that. I'm swamped. I've got 6 project on the go (crazyness) but I'll try to have the next chapter up within the next 2 weeks. It's already outlined and started, so with any luck…

In any case, many thanks to those who reviewed. It's much appreciated. I love to hear your comments, suggestions and criticisms.

Ta!

- Jasperite


	4. Live for Today

Disclaimer: These things are so boring. In case I haven't mentioned this, the songs belong to the band 3 Doors Down. Not mine (Though I'm flattered that you think so)

The following chapter is dedicated to **Chief Marmoset**, **Jessica Hatchet** (3 reviews! wow, thank you so much!), **darkcelestial20**, **Smurkle Snap**, and **Estora**. Many Thanks to my first five reveiwers!

Author's Twaddle – isn't that a great word, twaddle? Such fun. I just discovered it in a Thesaurus. WARNING: Fluff Alert! And cheese. Lots of cheese. Anyway, I'd like to let you all know that something interesting is about to happen with Harry…

Chapter 4 – Live for Today

As the summer wore on, Harry found himself spending more and more time with Tristan and the new friends that she was busy making. Some of these were people who had rejected him in elementary school, and so the reunions could be a bit tense. However, Harry found that many of those who had excluded him then were remorseful about their past actions. And in any case, Harry was willing to forgive and forget for Tristan's sake.

This, combined with his growing relationship with Remus, contented him. After those first two letters they had exchanged, they had started to trade more regular letters, and every time Remus was on guard duty, the pair would take some time to simply sit and talk in the backyard of number 4.

That explained why Harry was resting lithely in the freshly cut grass in the Dursl-ey's well-kept backyard, with Remus relaxing next to him.

"…just bopped me on the head!" exclaimed Harry indignantly. "And with me completely helpless to do anything about it! I didn't even say anything. I mean, I didn't even know what the whole thing was about until nearly two hours later!"

Remus chuckled at the teen's account of the story as he played with a piece of grass in his mouth. The werewolf's skin had a healthy sheen to it from the sun, and the laughter smoothed out his face, making him look years younger.

Harry considered the older man's worn clothes and a question sprang to mind. He barely realized the sensitiveness of it until he had already worded the question.

"Why do you still wear those old clothes? I mean, didn't you get some money or something from Sirius after…?" Harry trailed off, angry with himself for bringing the subject up.

Remus considered the abrupt question carefully. The subject of Harry's deceased godfather had not been brought up in their conversations before, though it might seem strange. Sirius was, after all, the strongest tie that bound them together. But both were unwilling to discuss his passing.

Hesitantly Remus said, "You mean from his will?"

Harry nodded, mentally kicking himself for bringing up such a painful subject.

"Well, Sirius' will actually hasn't been settled," Remus explained slowly. "There's an awful lot of complications. He was, after all, an escaped convict and he…died…in rather strange circumstances. Dumbledore and the goblins are working on it, but we've just gotten involved in a war, so everything is even more tangled than ever."

Bothwere pained byRemus' use of the past tense when referring to Sirius. Harry felt his eyes start to sting and quickly closed them, trying to get a better handle on his emotions. A moment later he felt a light, gentle touch on his arm, as tears squeezed their way from between tightly closed lids. Gently, slowly, Remus drew him in, holding the future savior of the wizarding world tightly in his arms. Every part of the werewolf's being ached at the injustice of it all.

Tristan found Harry and Remus in the park not long later. Petunia had evacuated them from the backyard, claiming that the grass needed to be mowed, and that simply couldn't be done with the two of them sitting there. Harry suspected that it had more to do with the fact that she didn't want two freaks sitting on her immaculate lawn making a scene.

Nevertheless, the duo removed themselves from number 4 and continued to talk as they meandered through the park. When Tristan caught up to them, she instantly noticed the fading redness around Harry's eyes, which, of course, aroused her suspicion of Remus. Neither Harry nor Remus missed the strange looks that Tristan was giving them, but they decided not to comment.

"Hi, Tris," Harry waved a half-hearted greeting as she approached.

"Hey, Harry," she smiled.

"Remus, this is Tristan, the new friend I was telling you about. Tristan, this is Remus, my…" Harry cast about for an appropriate title.

"When you were one I was your Uncle Moony," offered Remus.

"Really?" asked Harry, delighting in this new piece of information from his early past. "So I guess that means that I should refer to you as my uncle then?"

"Only if you never put me in the same category as that pig masquerading as a human being," answered Remus wryly. Both Harry and Tristan laughed at the jab at Vernon Dursley.

"Sohow long have you knowneach other for, then?" Tristan questioned.

"Actually," Remus replied, "we've known each other for about…what, three years? But we've only had the chance to really get to know each other recently. I was also friends with Harry's parents before they died."

"Oh."

"We actually met for the first time at my school. He was one of my teachers for a year or so," Harry informed her.

"I see," a hint of mischievous cunning wormed it's way into her tone. Harry shot her a slightly suspicious look when he caught it.

"Remus," she started, stopping to turn and look at him, "You wouldn't happen to have any influence over the Dursleys, would you?"

"I might," admitted Remus, an eyebrow raised. "Should I ask why?"

"Well, some people," she waved an arm around, "have decided to hold a outside dance here at the park…"

"Tristan…" protested Harry. She silenced him with a sharp glance.

"They've got a DJ, and food and all that good stuff, but no matter how much I bug Harry about going, he won't come! He says that his aunt and uncle told him 'no' and that's why he can't come. So I was hoping that maybe you could convince them to let Harry free for one night."

Harry simply shook his head and waited for Remus to apologize and deny the request.

"I think that I might be able to manage that," agreed Remus. Harry's shocked eyes flew open and he gaped at Remus.

"When is this dance?" Remus asked Tristan, ignoring Harry's flabbergasted look.

"Friday night – in two days."

"I'll see what I can do," nodded Remus.

"But, Remus, what about–" Harry tried to intervene.

Remus took the teen's face in his hands and said gently, "Harry, no one likes to see how depressed you've been lately, and I'm sure that Sirius would be horrified to see the state you're in. An outing will do you good. You need to get out and do things more."

To Tristan he stated firmly and determinedly, "He'll be there."

"Thank you," she smiled at him.

"No problem."

"I should get going," Tris said quietly. "It's almost suppertime and Mom's probably wondering where I am. Nice to meet you, Remus. See you later, Harry," she kissed him softly on the cheek and bounced off in the direction of home.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Remus, who chuckled and walked on. "Nice girl," he commented over his shoulder. "Very pretty. When are you going to tell her that you fancy her?"

"Remus!" protested Harry, chasing the werewolf down.

The next morning Kurt and Matt accosted Harry just as he stepped down the steps leading to number 4. The two young men slipped in a practiced manner to either side of their green-eyed friend, slinging their arms over his shoulders.

"So, Harry," started Kurt. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra money to spare, would you?"

"A little bit," admitted Harry, giving the two a suspicious look. "Why? Should I be worried?"

"Really, Harry, don't you trust us?" Matt asked breezily.

"No," came the prompt answer.

"Ouch. That hurt, Harry. Matt, don't you feel the pain?" Kurt passed over Harry's head. Matt chuckled in agreement. "Listen, Harry, go grab whatever money you can spare, O.K.?"

Harry reentered his aunt and uncle's house with some misgivings, but nevertheless grabbed his muggle money from his room. There was only about twenty-five pounds, even though Harry had been collecting it slowly throughout the years. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't exactly careless with their money, so it took time for Harry to find enough money lying around for it to add up.

Harry met up with Kurt and Matt again. Kurt quickly checked the amount that Harry had come up with and added, "and I've got another ten pounds to add on to that, so we should have enough."

"Whoa, wait up," demanded Harry. "Enough for what? What are we buying?"

"Well, Harry," drawled Kurt, clearly enjoying every moment of Harry's confusion, "my sister came home last night practically shining with delight at the idea of you going to this dance with her. And I said to myself, 'Kurt, your little sister is going to a dance with a boy who dresses like a bum.'"

Kurt held up a hand to ward off Harry's hurt and indignant face. "Yes, I know that your clothes are not your fault. But we still need to fix the problem. So I called up Matt here and ordered him to join us. We're here to abduct you."

"No – no, you guys don't understand – I can't –" Harry stalled, thinking of the Order and how disappointed they would be with him if he put himself in danger again.

"We aren't taking no for an answer, Harry," Matt stated unflinchingly. "It's not right, the way those relatives of yours treat you. The least we can do is make sure that you don't look like an idiot in front of everyone at the dance."

"Thanks ever so," muttered Harry sarcastically under his breath.

"And I'm sure that you want to impress Tris, too." Kurt's eye and mouth twitched in amusement. Harry felt his face heating under his friend's knowing smiles.

"No," he said firmly, pulling himself away from them. "It's not that simple…"

A soft breath on his neck stopped him short. Tonk's voice murmured in his ear, "Go ahead, Harry. I'll be right behind you."

He sighed softly and studied their determined faces before giving in. "O.K."

"Great!" exclaimed Kurt, already pulling Harry along the sidewalk by his arm. "Now we'll need to take a bus for a bit, but it isn't far."

"And exactly how do you expect to buy enough clothes with only 35 pounds?" asked Harry skeptically. He knew how much money clothes could cost.

"Well, as long as you aren't incredibly vain, there's always thrift stores."

"Thrift stores!" exclaimed Matt, who was obviously uninformed of this plan

"Hey! Do not dis the thrift stores! You would not believe the things you can find in those places!"the Canadiandefended himself. "Some of my most comfortable and best clothes came from Value Village, O.K.? Geez, man."

The thrift store that the trio stepped into was deceivingly large. Harry was surprised at how large it was. The store seemed to have thousands of racks of clothing that stretched far into the back of the store.

"And we're supposed to find what we want, how, exactly?" he demanded. Kurt just laughed and dragged him over to some racks stocked full of jeans.

"As quickly and as painlessly as possible," he answered. "What size do you think you are?"

A glance at Harry's bewildered expression answered that question. "Oh well. We'll just have to figure it out as we go along. Here try these on." Kurt tossed a few pairs of jeans at the overwhelmed teen and steered him in the direction of the change rooms.

The next hour was a blur of clothes and shirts. Harry was sure that Tonks had joined in the fun. Matt and Kurt swore they hadn't picked out at least two of the shirts that they ended up buying. Not to mention that at least twice someone had thrown ugly, flowered dresses into the change room, and Harry was fairly sure that it hadn't been one of the guys.

All three boys breathed a sigh of relief as they left the store behind. Harry was now armed with three pairs of jeans and several t-shirts. He also wore a pair of khaki shorts and a well fitting white t-shirt as they walked out to the bus stop. Matt had taken the liberty of donating Harry's old clothes to the thrift store while Harry wasn't watching.

Harry wouldn't be surprised if the thrift store burned the clothes instead of selling them.

"I'm going to have to get you started in weight lifting so you can fill in your new clothes better, Harry," teased Kurt.

"When do we start?" Harry surprised them by asking.

"Whenever you want," Kurt didn't hesitate in responding.

"Why aren't I invited?" Matt's indignant interruption made the other two grin.

"Saturday night, then. Both of you come over at, say, 6 o'clock? Sounds good?"

The younger boys nodded their assent as the bus came rattling up to the bus stop.

Nervousness curled tightly in Harry's belly on the night before the dance. He was going to be heading over to Tris' house in less than fifteen minutes, and he found himself unable to sit still. Thoughts of Tristan flickered continuously through his head, and he was helpless to stop them. She made him feel even more off balance that Cho ever did.

And, he reasoned, Tristan was a lot steadier than Cho was. She seemed a lot less likely to burst into tears, though Harry guessed that Cho had a pretty good reason to be unhappy.

But Tristan did something that Cho never did. She made him laugh, and in Harry's books, that went a long way. He needed someone to remind him that life could be funny, even through all the bad times.

But Tristan had never given him any indication that she liked him back, and Harry would be damned if he threw away their friendship over something that would probably never work out. He would rather have Tristan as a friend then not at all. The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward between them.

Finally Harry decided not to make a move on Tristan that night. It simply wasn't worth it. He would stick out the summer as her friend and nothing more.

He looked at the clock. Five more minutes till he had to go to Tristan's house. He went to inspect himself in the bathroom mirror for a fourth time. Nothing had changed. He groaned and gave up. _This is ridiculous_. He thought._ I'm working myself into a frenzy just waiting here. I should go early. No one will care if I'm a bit before schedule._

Harry fairly flew from the Dursley's house to Tristan. Dudley and his parents were out that night at one of Dudley's boxing matches, so no one got in his way as he walked out the door.

Tristan answered the door when Harry knocked. She beamed at him and motioned for him to come in.

"We're gonna meet the gang at the park," she explained. "I've just got to grab a couple of things and we'll get going, 'kay?"

Harry nodded numbly, a smile playing on his lips. Tristan began to bound up the stairs before she suddenly turned to face him.

"What do you think, Harry? Do I look alright?" inquired Tristan.

"You look…great," Harry finished lamely. 'Great' didn't really do it justice, Harry decided. The jeans and halter top that she had chosen to wear were perfect on her, setting off every curve and making Harry itch to hold her close. Tristan seemed satisfied with his pathetic compliment though, and she flashed him a brilliant smile.

Tristan disappeared upstairs and her father greeted Harry from the kitchen. Harry ventured into the larger room to say hello.

David was playing a game of cards with his wife and was obviously losing badly, if her triumphant crowing was anything to go by.

"I'll win this one," David threatened. His cards were a hopeless mess, and he made an effort to correct them. "You just watch."

His wife ignored his efforts and proceeded to clean up, finishing the game with a victorious 'Huzzuh!' David sighed and gave up, choosing to talk to Harry instead.

"So your aunt and uncle caved in and let you go to the dance, eh?" he addressed Harry.

"Yep."

"Good. You need to get out with your friends more," he looked Harry up and down, commenting, "You've certainly changed for the better since the beginning of the summer. It looks like you're finally starting to gain some weight."

"I give all the credit for that to Ann," conceded Harry. "I don't know where I'd be without your cooking," he addressed the older woman.

"I love to help, dear. It's been a delight having you here," Ann waved the compliment off.

"O.K., I'm ready, Harry. What about you?" Tristan appeared in the doorway and leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Harry headed over to her. David and Ann told them to enjoy themselves as they left, and began another game.

The music had already started when Harry and Tristan reached the park. It was loud and packed. Tables of food stood on the sidelines. That was where they found Del and the rest of the gang.

A warm greeting rose up from the large group. Del bounced up to them, licking some remaining sauce off her fingers. She grinned impishly at them and sidled up to Harry, making a dramatic show of hanging off him.

"Well, well, well. Look here, mates! Potter doesn't look so bad once you get some proper clothes on him!"

"I'm not sure that was a compliment," replied Harry dryly.

"There was one somewhere in there," Del told him. "I think."

Tristan moved forward to grab a couple of chips, and Del gestured to the dance floor. "Come dance with me, Har. Matt's being a prick and won't come out with me."

"No," Harry shook his head. "Trust me, I'm no good at dancing."

"Why are you here then? News flash, mate. This is a dance! Com'mon. Here's your chance to learn."

"No – I…" Harry continued to protest as the blonde dragged him onto the floor. Del immediately started instructing him. He was awkward and uncertain, not exactly sure of what to do. Del laughed and pulled him closer to her.

"Lighten up, Harry. You're never going to get the hang of it if you're tense like this the whole time. It's not that hard once you get the hang of it. Just relax, yeah?"

Harry sighed and tried to do what she told him. By the end of the second song he was actually starting to do fairly good.

"You know, the last time I went to a dance, I completely bombed it," he informed Del.

"Yeah?" she asked, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah," he snorted, remembering the fiasco that had mistakenly labeled 'the Yule Ball.' He always thought that 'Total and Complete Embarrassment Ball' would have been more appropriate. "My date abandoned me, my two best friends had a huge fight and by the end of the night my whole school had probably decided that I was, without doubt, a complete loser."

"Your date walked out on you?" Del laughed aloud at the thought.

Harry shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, but I can't really blame her. I was being a right little prick that night. I feel kind of sorry for her, now that I think about it."

"Well, I would say that if you don't want Tristan to walk out on you, you'd better go dance with her." Del grinned at Harry's slightly surprised expression. "And yes, I've seen the way you've been checking over my shoulder to make sure she hasn't gone anywhere. Harry, if you like her, you should go for it."

With those last few words, Del pulled away from the raven-haired boy and swung off to another partner. Harry took a deep breath and strode over to where Tristan was joking with the others. Every step felt like he was moving through waist deep water. When he finally reached her, it took every ounce of his courage to tap her on the shoulder and ask her to dance with him.

_What's wrong with me_? He thought furiously. _It shouldn't be this hard! All I'm doing is asking her to dance. The worst she can do is say no. I mean, it's not like I'm kissing her or anything!_ He quickly shed that uninvited train of thought, and smiled when Tristan's acceptance cut through his haze of thoughts.

She took his hand and led him to the dance floor as – just his luck – a slow song came on.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit_. Harry repeated the mantra in his head. _Why me?_

Tristan wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. Harry felt his insides melt.

"Enjoy yourself so far?" she made a brave attempt at small talk.

"Er…yeah, it's been pretty neat." Harry answered. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two.

"Del was teaching me how to dance, earlier." Harry tried.

"I saw," came Tristan's terse response.

"So, maybe I won't embarrass you to badly in the nextfast song," he smiled at her and Tristan chuckled.

"I don't care how you dance," she declared, "as long as you actually dance. It's just not as fun at these things if you sit on the sidelines all night."

"No," agreed Harry. "Who would want to sit on the sidelines when they have a beautiful girl ready to dance with them?"

"Ohhh, Harry!" Tristan laughed. "That was smooth! Who taught you to talk like that?"

"Your brother, when he was done buying me a whole new wardrobe."

"Yeah, I heard about that! So you have a thing about flowered dresses, eh, Harry?" Tristan gave him a sly, sideways glance.

Harry groaned in frusteration. "That wasn't me, I swear! Someone was throwing them into the change room, OK? I personally think it was Matt," he confided.

"Sure, Harry."

"No, really!"

"Whatever," Tris gave him a knowing look and Harry shot her an exasperated one. Both broke into laughter a moment later, ruining the moment.

"Look," said Tristan, "I've gotta go to the bathroom. I'll catch you in a minute. Wait for me by the drinks?"

Harry nodded and she walked away as the song ended in the background. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and breathed out harshly. He'd only known Tris for a few weeks, but it was already incredibly hard to breath around her. And he couldn't figure out for the life of him how he was going to survive the rest of the night with her. He didn't realize just how much he liked her until she was dancing with him, her arms around his neck and her body pressed against his.

He mentally argued with himself all the way over to the table where drinks were being served. Erika, one of Tris' most recent friends came up beside him. She was a petit, pretty brunette with a bit of an attitude. She had dressed in a revealing mini skirt that showed off her legs, and a small tank top. Her belly button piercing glittered in the glow from the lights that had been set up all over the park.

"It's a good dance, isn't it?" she commented. Harry didn't know her very well, but made a bit of an effort to socialize with her.

"Yeah, it's pretty good," he allowed.

"This is a good song," she commented draining the last remaining drops of her drink. "Dance with me?"

"Er…sorry, but I'm just gonna wait for Tristan," Harry apologized.

"Oh, really, Harry. She's not going dance with you all night!" Erika's laughter rang in Harry's ears, and he found himself gritting his teeth against it's sound. Erika set her empty diet coke down on the table behind them. "She really likes Matt."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, feeling his heart dropping into his stomach.

"Hmmhm. At least, that's what she said to me the other day," Erika waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I'm sure that she wouldn't mind if you danced with me. Please? Don't be a bore, Harry."

Harry was torn – if Tristan really did like Matt, then he might be better off finding another partner. But one look at Erika and he knew that if he did find another person to dance with, it wouldn't be her. Simply standing next to the girl made his teeth ache.

"Maybe later, Erika. I'm just going to wait for Tristan for now. I don't think she'd be happy if I just took off on her." Harry was surprised at how cold is voice was.

"Oh, Harry…" protested Erika.

"_No_." It seemed like his voice had just crossed line from 'cold' to 'extraordinarily frigid.' Erika backed off, pouting.

"Alright, then. See you 'round, Harry."

Harry felt a wave of immense relief wash over him as the small girl walked away. She had given him a rather painful headache. Half of him was screaming with all it's might that she was just playing with him, and Tristan didn't like Matt, but the other part worried that Erika was right. After all, why would she lie to him?

Harry shifted from foot to foot as he waited and became increasingly anxious when Tristan didn't come back. Surely it didn't take that long to go to the loo!

Harry finally yielded to his misgivings and left his post to search for Tris. He wove towards the washrooms, keeping his eyes open. He walked around the building to the other side where the entrance to the ladies' door was, but stopped before he turned the corner. Tristan's voice wafted over to where he was standing. He could hear her clearly from his position.

"…And, _damn_, Del! I just can't do this! It's insane. I like him so much, and I have absolutely no idea if he likes me back! It's driving me crazy!" Tris sounded a bit hysterical.

Harry could feel blood pounding in his ears. He leaned against the building's brick wall and focused on their conversation. Was Tris talking about Matt or…someone else?

"Relax, Tris. He definitely likes you." Del sounded like she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was right.

"You can't just say that, Del! You don't know for sure."

"Tris, if you could hear the way Matt talks…"

Harry felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, reached right into his body, and ripped out his stomach. Disappointment welled up inside him and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He tuned back into their conversation after what felt like years, though it had probably only been a few seconds.

"…won't say anything, but even Kurt's caught on. His face is like an open book," Del was saying.

"But if he hasn't said anything to anyone, youcan't know. I mean, he's great, but he keeps to himself so much. There's still so much I don't know about him. We haven't even touched the subject of how his parents died!"

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Matt's parents were both alive. But what did he know. Up till two weeks ago he hadn't talked to the other boy for years. Anything could have happened.

"First of all, Tris, you've _got_ to slow down!" Del cautioned. "You've only know him for a little over _two weeks_! Give it some time. And the death of his parents has to be a really touchy subject for him. He'll talk to you about things like that when he's ready."

"I know…It's just-"

"Listen, Harry's always kept to himself. Even in primary school, he kept himself apart from everyone else. That could, of course, have been Dudley Dursley's fault, but the fact is that he comes to you in his own time. Be patient."

"I guess…"

"I _know_," said Del firmly. Tris sighed.

"O.K." Tris finally answered. "Thanks, Del. I really need to be getting back. Harry'll be wondering where I went. Later."

Harry ducked away and quickly made for the table where he had been standing. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his heart felt like it was doing the can-can in his chest. _She liked him. Tristan really and truly liked him._ He felt like yelling in joy, except that there were about a million people standing around him.

Tristan came tearing up to him. "Harry, I'm so sorry that I took so long. I ran into Del, and we started talking and-"

"It's okay," Harry stopped her. "I did wonder where you were, though. I was about to go looking for you." He smiled at her and noticed a slight blush on her cheeks. _Why didn't I notice that before?_ He wondered.

"Dance?" He suggested. Tristan nodded and took his offered hand. A song that was well known to them began to play, and they grinned at each other. Harry couldn't begin to count the number of times that they had played that3 Doors Down CD. Tristan took hold of Harry's arms and they began to dance, singing along with the song.

_Show me the road and I will find my own/ You build the bridges and I burn them down_

Harry laughed at Tristan's off tune singing, grinning when she whacked him jokingly on the arm.

_…But you won't know now and I won't tell/ You're always hiding, throwing up your hands while heroes ride again_

The dance floor was packed; it seemed like everyone there had decided to dance for this song. Harry caught the sight of Erika dancing with a guy on the other side of the dance floor and laughed at the disgruntled look on her face.

_…But I love this life that I'm live'n in/ I won't looked back to regret yesterday/ We're not handed tomorrow so I'll live for today!_

Tristan tripped and fell forward into Harry. He caught her before she tipped over completely. She wound her fingers into his shirt to steady herself more, raising a flushed and smiling face up to Harry. He choked on his breath at the sight of her. The crowd and the momentum of her fall had pressed her into him, and her face was about one inch from his own.

_…I'll take the chance before the chance has gone/ You never know when it'll be your last…_

Harry gathered all of his courage and jumped headfirst before he could change his mind. He might never have this kind of chance again, and he'd be damned if he was going to give it up. Without a second thought he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, revelling in the moment.

They broke apart moments later. Tristan searched his face and suddenly a giggle escaped her mouth. Harry was horrified for a moment. _I am that bad of a kisser?_

But a second later, Tristan was leaning in again to claim a second kiss. Harry pulled her even closer to him. Everything around them faded into the background.

_…We'll never say it but we're over our heads/ And we're drowning in all inside all these things we said…_

When they came up for air a second time, a loud cheer distracted them from each other. Their entire group of friends stood on the sidelines, watching and cheering them on. Harry vaguely noticed that Roy was handing over some coins to Del, and that Matt had an incredibly smug smile on his face. Tristan went beet red and hid her face in Harry's shoulder. Harry grinned at the group and whisked Tristan away from the group of spies, further into the crowd.

_…I won't look back to regret yesterday/ We're not handed tomorrow so I'll live for today!_

O.K., yes, I admit it was cheesy, but it was some pretty darn good cheese, eh? Right? You know that fluff is good!

Don't worry. If things work out the way I want them to, the next chapter should be chock full of angst for poor Harry.

And don't you appreciate that this chapter was fully double the size of the others? I actually considered splitting this in half, but it didn't work with my chapter outline to do that. Unfortunately, this extra long chapter will have to tide you over for the next two weeks, because 1) the next chapter will be much harder to write and 2) exams are nearly upon us! (I should actually be studying right now, but I'm doing this instead)

Sooooo, I will be seeing you!

Smile;)

Jasperite

Next Chapter: _Landing in London_


	5. Landing in London

Disclaimer: No, surprisingly enough the characters of Harry Potter do not belong to me. Only Tris, her family, and her friends. Nor do the lyrics of the Three Doors Down Band.

Author's Twaddle: I have a preposition for everyone. When you review, tell me a word that you think is funny sounding…like mitosis, or bully (Think about it – bully, bully, bully, bully – very strange sounding word.) And if you do, I'll reward you. You might find that the next chapter will be dedicated to you. Fun stuff, eh?

This particular chapter is dedicated to **Jessica Hatchet and Estora.**

**Jessica Hatchet**, for reviewing every chapter. Thanks so much! Your reviews mean more to me than you'll ever know!

**Estora** for encouraging me to keep it up. You really got me going. I saw how you kept plowing on with your story even though things were stressful and it motivated me to get going. After reviewing your story and getting your reply I sat down and finished the chapter off. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 5 : Landing in London

The rest of the dance passed like a whirlwind. Harry and Tristan barely left each other's side for the entire night. Harry had never felt so giddy and happy before in his life. At one point he absently wondered if his stomach would ever catch up. The newness of the entire situation made his mind spin in both ecstasy and anxiety.

Their friends were not above teasing by any means. They all took a great deal of pleasure from heckling and poking fun at the new couple. Harry found he was to happy to care. The comments that would have annoyed and embarrassed him before simply didn't matter anymore. Tristan was taking it with good humor, even throwing a few lines back at them.

Harry walked Tris back to her house afterward. His face was starting to hurt from smiling so much, but there wasn't anything he could to do to stop. Tristan talked cheerfully to him on the short walk to her house. When they paused before it, Harry had to ask, hesitantly,

"Tris, you're happy about this, right? You and me?"

Tristan looked up at him thoughtfully for a second before stepping close to kiss him. "What do you think, you moron?" she asked softly, pulling away so she could look him in the face.

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing in deeply to calm his nerves. He looked her in the eyes and asked seriously, "Be my girlfriend?"

She kissed him in answer. He held her close, amazed for a moment that he was actually there, with her, and that she wanted to be his girlfriend. Hell, he couldn't believe that she liked him in the first place!

"I should go," she murmured. He sighed, kissed her one last time and let her go. Both headed to their respective homes and beds happier than they'd been in a long time.

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Despite his blissful evening with Tris, Harry was still plagued with nightmares. Some were the typical rerun nightmares: Sirius falling through the veil, Cedric's death, and Voldemort's return. But now he had a new nightmare, more real and horrifying than before.

Harry woke gasping for air, withsweat soaking his body and sheets. Weakly he tried to drag himself from the bed, but his trembling legs were unable to hold his weight. He hit the ground and, shuddering, leaned against a bed post.

He attempted to block the images from his mind but they had engrained themselves there, melded forever into his memory.

_Blood pain tears please no help scream save me agony race red plead stop breath hurt crucio crucio crucio stop!_

Harry felt his stomach churn and heave as the images of what he had witnessed played unwillingly in his head. He tried to choke down the vomit but it was no use. When he was done the smell made him groan aloud. He pressed a hand to his pounding temple. _A vision. It had to be a vision._ He hadhoped that he was done with those damn things!

It seemed like forever before he managed to get a hold on his emotions. He finally managed to stand on two feet, and he pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs. He was as quiet as he could be when he ventured out of his room. The last thing he wanted was the Dursleys to wake up and see the mess he'd made of his room.

When he stepped outside he was immediately accosted by the order member who was on duty.

"Shouldn't you be in bed still, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, stepping towards him.

Harry turned to face her and she was shocked by his state of appearance. His hair was wilder than ever, and his face looked as though it had been completely drained of blood. The boy obviously hadn't noticed it yet, but there was a trickle of smeared dried blood on the side of his face, trailing from his scar. His expressive green eyes belied the panic and horror that came with the aftermath of the nightmare.

"I think that I need someone to train me better in occlumency - soon," his voice was hoarse and desperate. Minerva's normally stern face held an expression of growing concern. She stepped closer and took hold of his arm.

"I will speak with the headmaster about it," she promised, eyes searching his haggard face for a hint of what happened. Her guess would be that he had a particularly bad nightmare, but she wasn't sure that occlumency would help ward off nightmares. "In the meantime, would you like for me to send some dreamless sleep potion with the next order guard?"

Harry looked up at her, gratitude washing across his face like a wave. "Yes, please. Thank you, professor."

"Not a problem," Minerva answered briskly. The sun was just coming up to the east, and light began to flood Privet drive. "Now, Mr. Potter, if that's all, it would perhaps be best for you to step inside. The neighbourhood, I'm sure, is going to be up and about soon, and I had best get back undercover."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, somewhat numbly. He meandered back towards number 4 and caught sight of the older woman changing into a tabby cat from the corner of his eye.

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Harry winced at the sight of his bedroom. The sheets on his bed were tangled and damp, and the mess he had made on the floor was leaking a sour odor into the air. He set to work, cleaning up the vomit from the floor and stripping the sheets from his bed. The images from his vision danced through his mind, slowing his progress down considerably. Harry hoped in vain that he would never have to witness one of Voldemort's sick games again.

It wasn't long before he heard the Dursleys stirring in the other rooms. The thought of cooking breakfast for them made his head hurt, and his stomach curl, but he knew that Uncle Vernon's fist would be worse. He force himself down to the kitchen. Fortunately for him, Aunt Petunia took one look at him and he was ordered to 'take a shower and at least try to look presentable in the company of others!'

Harry was more than happy to comply. The short, cold shower helped him to shed the grime and unclean feeling of the events that had started off his morning. By the time he was done the family had already fixed and eaten their own breakfast. Harry stopped to talk to them only long enough to tell them that he was going out and probably wouldn't be back till that evening. He took Vernon's grunt as acceptance and exited the house, happy to be free of the place.

The moment he reached the sidewalk, McGonagall came padding up beside him. She wove around his feet and Harry correctly guessed that she wanted to speak to him. The raven haired teenager switched directions and led the cat into a well concealed and relatively spacious area. Professor McGonagall made a professional transformation to her human form as soon as she was out of public sight.

"Mr. Potter," she began briskly, "I've been in contact with the headmaster and he asked me to deliver a couple of messages to you. The first is that Remus will be bringing you several texts on the subject of occlumency, and he is looking for a suitable teacher for you. The second message is that there will be a couple of Order members picking you up tomorrow morning to take you to Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley?" questioned Harry. "Am I going to be getting my school supplies, then? I don't have a list yet."

McGonagall hesitated and admitted, "I believe that your trip to Diagon Ally has to do with Sirius Black's will. The goblins have sorted matters out and confirmed that he has indeed…passed away. The will reading is being held tomorrow at Gringott's. It appears that you will be one of the benefactors."

Harry rubbed his stinging eyes and asked, "What time should I be ready by?"

"The Order members will be here at 9 o'clock."

"Thank you, professor," Harry murmured. "Is that all?"

"For now," conceded McGonagall. As Harry strode away, he reflected on how odd it was that he was now considered a _benefactor_ of Sirius' death, when he would have give everything he owned for Sirius to be alive again.

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When Tristan's door came crashing open, the last thing that Harry had expected was Kurt pining him to the ground before Harry had even raised his hand to knock. Harry labeled his chances for getting out of this situation a lost cause and waited to hear what Kurt had planned for him.

"I've got him, Dad! And trust me, he's not going anywhere!" Harry eyed Kurt suspiciously and ventured a question.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded. Kurt grinned down at him.

"You don't honestly think that you're gonna get away with dating my sister scotch free, do you? No, no. There's a price."

"And you couldn't have mentioned this before? You knew that I liked her!"

"It must have slipped my mind."

"You're evil, you know that? That's it, I'm convinced. You suffer from a severe case of insanity."

"Dude, I don't suffer from insanity," when Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow Kurt continued gleefully, "I enjoy every minute of it!"

Harry groaned (which wasn't easy with Kurt sitting on his chest – the last thing that you could call Kurt was 'light') and made a weak effort at pushing Kurt off. With everything that he had gone through that morning – the nightmares, the vision, cleaning his room, Professor McGonagall informing him of the approaching will reading – Harry was in no mood to get ribbed by the Lindells.

Fortunately for him, David appeared in the doorway, calling, "Kurt, get off the poor guy!"

Harry was about to shoot the older man a grateful look when David continued, "How am I supposed to seriously talk to him if you're sitting on him?"

Harry stood up reluctantly, suddenly wishing that he was back on the ground with Kurt sitting on him. David beckoned to his daughter's new boyfriend and Harry followed him, anticipation and anxiety gnawing at his stomach.

It turned out that he had nothing to worry about. It was just a typical 'Father tells boy that he'd better take care of the girl or his guts would be ripped out in a painful and all around satisfying manner' talk. Harry came away relatively unscarred. He had an itching feeling that David was incredibly amused with his situation. By the time Tristan managed to smuggle Harry away from her overbearing family, Harry had the beginnings of a migraine forming.

Tristan was horrified. She took full responsibility for the pain that Harry had had to go through. Harry certainly didn't mind. For him, it was pure bliss to be able to rest his head in her lap and close his eyes. For awhile he managed to relax, almost falling asleep under Tristan's gentle, soothing hands.

That was the thing about having Tristan around. She could distract him from the dark times. When the night fell is around him, and Harry wasn't sure he could make it through, people like Tristan, Ron, Hermione, and Remus where his light. They guided him through and kept him going.

"I'm going away to London tomorrow," Harry finally made himself tell Tristan.

"Oh," Tristan's hands continued their methodical movement over his scalp. "Why?"

"My godfather…died…about a month ago, and I've been asked to attend his will reading, which is tomorrow. I'll probably also be getting some school stuff while I'm in the city."

"Are you going alone?"

"No. Some old friends of my parents will be picking me up," Harry replied.

"Like Remus?"

"Yeah, like him." Harry's green eyes were closed, so the soft kiss that Tris planted on the corner of his mouth caught him by surprise.

"I'm sorry about your godfather," she breathed quietly into his ear.

"Me too," he murmured back, kissing her back. _Me too._

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The next morning was a strain on Harry nerves. He had spent the entire night in a fitful sort of sleep, apprehensive of the possibility of another vision. Professor McGonagall sent a message explaining that the Dreamless Sleep potion she had offered wouldn't be available until the following day. No vision came, but nevertheless, Harry had very little rest that night. The fact that he spent the entire night agonizing over the quickly approaching will reading, didn't help his anxiety. At all.

He also discovered as he prepared to make breakfast for the Dursleys that Aunt Petunia hadn't bothered to restock the fridge in a week. At the rate that the Vernon and Dudley ate their food, this was not a good situation. No matter how hard Harry worked to figure out a solution, his relatives were simply not happy.

By the time 9 o'clock rolled around, Harry was ready to get out of that by any means possible. The only reason Vernon hadn't gave him a beating all the way to Timbuktu and back was because he knew that Harry was heading off with his "freak" friends, and the huge man didn't want any trouble with "their kind." So Harry headed off, grateful that he was out of the house for the day and safe from Vernon's anger for a little while.

However, there was another unwelcome surprise waiting for him outside number 4. Severus Snape greeted him with a sneer.

Harry barely managed to hold in his groan of disappointment. He had hoped that Dumbledore would at least send someone that he enjoyed being with. Snape was (surprise!) not that person.

Snape hurried him into a car that was driven by one of the muggleborn members of the Order. Harry slid in and feigned sleep. Snape made no move to disturb him. The trip to Diagon Alley was made in tense silence with Harry hating his professor for his cold indifference. Once there, Snape led him without a word through the chaos that was the Alley to Gringotts.

Inside the wizarding bank, Snape headed straight for one of the Goblins. "Harry Potter here for the will reading of Sirius Black," he spat shortly.

The Goblin barely spared the two wizards a glance. "Blagrat! Harry Potter for the Black will reading!" A second, shorter goblin came scurrying up and beckoned for Harry and his professor to follow him. It wasn't long till the goblin stopped in front of a large bronze door.

"Sir, your name is not on the list of those to be admitted to the reading," Harry turned at hearing these words, confused. "Wha…"

It only took him a moment to realize that Blagrat was talking to Snape, not himself. Harry paused mid-word and hid a smile.

Snape scowled darkly and opened his mouth, presumably to bite the stocky goblin's head off. However, a familiar elderly voice stopped him in his tracks.

"He has been approved for admittance by the chief goblin," interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore. "I have an authorized note here that I have been instructed by Chief Harsmock to pass on to you."

A small, official note was passed between the elderly man and skeptical goblin. The latter examined the note thoroughly before waving the group in.

Harry determinedly avoided Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and stepped into the small chamber. Several people were already gathered, sitting in hard wooden chairs that had been set up for the occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in the small group, along with Remus, Tonks, some other Order members, and a couple of people Harry didn't recognize. The raven-haired teenager flinched as a hand came down on his shoulder, belatedly realizing that it belonged to the Headmaster.

He was lead (or pushed) towards a small cluster of unoccupied chairs. Harry managed to sidestep the oppressive hand enough to slip into a chair between Remus and Tonks. Remus greeted him softly, while Tonks was her usual exuberant self. Harry managed a smile for both of them.

A goblin walked out and a hush fell over the room. Half the people gathered jumped involuntarily when he slammed the papers he carried onto a desk with a loud bang. A few smothered laughs echoed briefly through the room.

"So," croaked the goblin, "You are here to witness the will of Sirius Black. _Most_ of you will benefit from these events. _If_ you will not, you should not _be_ here!" the last part was barked in the general direction of Snape. The greasy-haired professor said nothing, though the look that he shot at the goblin could have killed.

"We will proceed. Mr. Black left his will in the form of an Eral Image. Are there any questions before I activate the image?"

_Yes_, Harry wanted to say. _What the hell is an Eral Image_? A glance across the room showed that no one else was ignorant of that fact, and Harry absolutely refused to look like an idiot in front of everyone present. He kept his mouth shut and didn't meet Remus' eyes.

"Very well," the goblin continued, after a moment of silence. "We shall begin!"

The goblin bent over a small golden platform that was perched on the desk. He murmured a few indistinguishable words and leaned back in satisfaction. Seconds later a image sprang from the platform, large enough for everyone in the room to see clearly.

_Sirius_. Harry's mind reeled at seeing him again. The young man sat back suddenly, his emerald eyes blurring over. He blinked furiously, trying to dispel the tears that were threatening to spill over. A valiant effort was made to keep control, and Harry felt his breathing finally calm down. He was aware of Remus' hand on his own, lending strength and comfort. Harry took a deep breath and focused on the image as it began to speak.

"'Lo, everyone!" Sirius' voice permeated the room. Harry shuddered slightly at the sound. "If you're listening to this, it means that I've gone and done something incredibly stupid that you're all going to benefit from. I'm just going to keep this short and sweet, so listen up!

"Remus Lupin, I'm leaving the bulk of my assets to you. Grimmauld Place, Kreacher, and 50 percent of what remains in the Black Vault is now yours to use and hold as you please. And you better use it Moony! Make no mistake about it, I'm watching. If you don't use some of that money on some new clothes, I swear that I will hunt you to the end of your days. Savvy?

"To Arthur and Molly Weasley, I leave 20 percent of the money in the Black Vault. There's a good sum there for you to use. I also would ask a favor of you. If it is at all in your power I would ask you to continue in taking part of Harry's life. He obviously loves the lot of you Weasleys to pieces, and I would appreciate it if you would continue to care for him in my stead. Advise him, support him, and, if necessary, admonish him. Sorry, Harry, for throwing you into Molly's clutches. I do believe that you'll be the better for it, no matter how scary she can be."

Harry smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and they returned the gesture. Molly wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly as Sirius continued.

"To Tonks I leave 10 percent of the assets in the Black Vault and the task of finding a way to get my bloody harpy of a mother of the wall in Grimmauld Place. Remus, because it's now your house, you have to share this exciting and joyous job with her. Isn't that great?

Sirius went on in much the same vein for the next bit. He split the remaining 20 percentof the Black Vault between the rest of the room, and bequeathed certain personal items to certain people. Jaclyn Bellings, for instance, was awarded a book that seemed to please her greatly. The significance of the book went completely over Harry's head, but some of the strangers in the room chuckled when they heard the title of the novel.

Harry mused over how odd it was that there were people in the room that he had never seen before in his life (or couldn't possibly remember if he had). They must have been significant to Sirius if he was including them in his will. He felt a sudden pain and griping feeling of loneliness, abruptly coming to recognize how much time they had lost together.

There was so much that Harry hadn't known about Sirius before the incident at the Department of Mysteries. He didn't know who Sirius liked to talk with, or his hobbies, or what he did with his spare time. Harry couldn't tell anyone what Sirius' favourite colour was, or what he had done as a career before he was left to rot in Azkaban. All Sirius had known about Harry was likely assumed, or picked up from his friends. Harry was as much a mystery to Sirius as the older man was to Harry.

It was a difficult idea to handle and accept, that there were people in that room that mourned Sirius just as much as Harry, and probably had more right to his assets as well. Harry was shaken out of his consuming thoughts by the small image announcing his name to the room.

"Harry, I don't have any great riches or properties to pass on to you. I know that you don't need or want them."

Harry smiled a bit. Sirius was right. The last thing Harry wanted from Sirius was money. There were people, like the Weasleys, or Remus, who needed them more. He appreciated that Sirius had acknowledged that fact.

"So I'm leaving you a couple of things that I think you'll appreciate a good bit more. There's a box in my room. It's rather large and has a significant amount of memoirs and souvenirs from when your parents and I were young. I know you don't have a lot to remember your parents by, so I'm giving these to you. I know that you'll treasure them like no one else could. Remus can help you find it.

"The next thingI'm passing on to you will be a lot more troublesome." The Sirius image grinned roguishly. Remus took in a sharp breath beside Harry. "I'm handing you my motor bike!"

The image was obviously delighted with this idea. It continued on excitably. "It flies, it can go invisible – make sure not to forget where it is, when you use that feature – and it's perfect for someone your age. Use it well, Harry. That thing deserves to be ridden properly!

"I think that just about covers everything. I hope that everyone enjoys what they've been given. I love you all!"

Image faded from view and the chamber was quiet for a few brief moments. A chair scraped against the floor as the goblin stood up and plucked the small golden platform from the desk.

"That is the end of the will reading. If you have any questions, ask me. I will be available for the next half-hour. Please come to either myself or one of my assistants to receive and sign any papers that might be necessary." Harry blinked and looked for the mentioned assistants. Sure enough, they stood off to the side in a corner that had entirely escaped Harry's notice.

Several people were standing and heading for the goblins to receive their paperwork and the items that Sirius had left to them. Harry was swept into a bone crunching hug courtesy of Mrs. Weasley, and was quickly whisked off to sign the paperwork for the motorbike.

The next half-hour passed in a blur of motion. There were many people who offered their sympathies to Harry. Thankfully he had the presence of mind to return the favor. Remus guided him as swiftly and painlessly as possible through the mess of paperwork he had been handed, and soon Harry was being hustled through the door.

Professor Dumbledore stood in wait of them. He stepped forward as Harry came out of the chamber.

"Harry," he said, somewhat gravely, "I rather hoped that you would join me for a bit of a discussion before heading back to the Dursley."

"Ah…sure, professor," Harry responded. Remus gave him a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

"See you soon, Harry," he muttered into Harry's ear. Harry smiled at him and turned to the Headmaster. A long, thick chain dangled from the elderly man's hand. _A portkey_, Harry guessed correctly.

He stepped forward and took hold of the chain, bracing himself from the nauseating ride that the portkey was sure to give.

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Author's Twaddle (again): I'm very sorry for the wait. I realize that you've all been very patient with me. I could give you a long list of excuses, but I'm sure that no one's interested. At least this chapter's fairly long.

I encourage everyone to remember my challenge from the top of the page. If you leave a word that you think is odd, strange, funny or anything in between, you could get the next chapter dedicated to you!


	6. It's Not Me

Disclaimer: Not mine. Happy?

Author's twaddle: OK. For this chapter, I need to know what your favourite book is. And Harry Potter books **do not** count! My personal favourite (right now) is _Pride and Prejudice._ I just read it a few weeks ago and whoowee! So good. So tell me what it is for you! Don't leave me hanging!

AT2: Er… don't hit me or anything but there is basically no Tristan in this chapter. She just didn't play into this part of the story. Sorry for those looking forward to a romantic chapter.

This chapter goes to **Smurkle Snap** for the weird word "Smirk"!

_A chapter of confrontations:_

_Dumbledore_

_Snape_

_Harry._

_Oh my._

Chapter 6: It's Not Me

Harry felt his feet hit the ground and pitched forward, connecting painfully with the floor of Professor Dumbledore's office. _I hate portkeys._ He thought sourly. His knees groaned in protest as he pulled himself to his feet.

"All right there, Harry?" asked the Headmaster cheerfully. Harry nodded, not meeting the older man's eyes. "Have a seat, my dear boy. Lemon drop?" came the typical offer. Harry shook his head.

"Pity," sighed Dumbledore. "They are the most exquisite candy. Absolutely wonderful." He popped one into his own mouth and paused for a brief second to enjoy it. Harry sat uncomfortably, waiting for some indication of what the Headmaster wanted to talk about. He didn't have to wait long.

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small stack of papers, along with another pair of glasses. He took the glasses he had been wearing off and stashed them away, setting the new pair on his nose. (The new pair was identical in every way to the ones that he had just put away. The whole point of the action was lost to Harry.) The old man then leaned forward, examining Harry closely.

"Professor McGonagall passed on the information that you were either experiencing very bad nightmares or…visions. Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir. I'm pretty sure that I had a vision a couple of nights ago," Harry swallowed hard. "It was…pretty bad. If there's anything I can do to get rid of them, I'll do it. They've got to be stopped."

"I have been searching for another person to teach you occlumency. Unfortunately, none have the level of competence required to teach you how to block out Lord Voldemort. I realize that your relationship with Professor Snape is less than amiable, but if you truly wish to have the best of instruction, he would be your first choice."

"You can't teach me?" questioned Harry desperately, clutching at straws.

The old man shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he answered gently. "I am very busy at the moment. The war has started in earnest, and I have many things that must be arranged. The ministry is in need of an extreme amount of advice, so I often spend full days there. I have little time to spare at the moment."

"I understand," Harry spoke to his hands.

"You will also be training with Order members three times a week. Remus passed on your message that you wanted to be properly trained for the war. I agree with you. It is most probable that you will be face with many dangerous situations before this is over. It is better that you are trained and ready than sent blindly into danger. Therefore, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday an Order member will come and help you develop new skills to aid you in the war. I have already put in a request at the Ministry that they would lift the ban on underage wizardry for you. I am quite confident that it shall be granted."

"Thank you, sir," murmured Harry softly, glad that he would finally get the skills he needed. He was well aware of his many limitations, and couldn't imagine that he had any chance of winning the war with his current level of competence.

"Alastor Moody, Remus, Tonks, and Bill Weasley will take turns instructing you. I trust that is acceptable?" The headmaster's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He knew full well that all of the above were people that Harry liked and respected, and would be delighted to learn from.

"Yes, sir," Harry stopped his smile before it even started, reminding himelf that he would still need to endure occlumency with Snape. "When are my lessons with Professor Snape going to be?"

"Saturday and Tuesday evenings, around 7 o'clock. Arabella Figg has kindly offered her house for you use, and that is where Professor Snape will meet you."

"Alright," Harry could just imagine – Professor Snape killing off Mrs. Figg's cats one by one as he snarled at Harry to 'clear his mind!'

"Harry," Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, gazing at the teenager before him in concern, "I would like to remind you that you are not alone. We are all here – the Order, your friends, your teachers – and we are ready to aid you through the war. You will not have to endure this on your own. We will all be there, standing at your side."

Harry's heart twisted at hearing this speech. "Will you die because of me, too?" the words and tone were bitter, hinting at the pain and anger that Harry carried inside of him.

The young man stood, eyes glittering in masked fury. "I don't want any one fighting with me, headmaster. I have no interest in watching those I love die around me, being tortured like those poor people I saw in my vision. I don't want to see them face the pain of this fight," each word was said with solid conviction. "If there is anyway I can spare them from this war, I will do it, come hell or high water.

"Besides," Harry crossed his arms, face emotionless, "you're wrong. When it comes down to it, it's just me and Riddle. And no matter what you say or do, no one can follow me to that point."

_And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have the power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

The words of that life-changing prophecy echoed in the minds of both the old man and the young boy. Dumbledore regarded his student with sorrow and pride, somewhat taken aback by Harry's bold statement.

"My boy," he attempted, "Surely you realize that we aren't going to send you through this on your own. The Order is already a part of the war and they will be a crucial element in the outcome. The war isn't entirely dependant on you."

"No," agreed Harry, leaning back as he seated himself. His deep green eyes were unreadable. "Of course it isn't. How selfish of me. All _I_ have to do is kill the evil overlord."

Dumbledore sighed inwardly as he picked up the bitterness in Harry's voice. With any luck, this training would give the young man a little more control and understanding of his place in the war.

"Very well, Harry," the headmaster murmured before changing the subject. "There is only one more significant matter that I wish to discuss with you."

_Good. I'm sick of this conversation. _Harry wanted to snarl. He managed to refrain, and instead raised a questioning eyebrow at his professor.

"There is a slight problem over the matter of this muggle girl you have befriended. I realize that you are trying to establish some sort of friendship with her, and I feel that I must warn you that nothing good can come of this."

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry stated in disbelief. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Dumbledore was clearly choosing his words carefully. "Consider, my boy, the possible consequences. The girl has no knowledge of our world or the war that we are fighting. If anything were to happen to you this summer, there is the likelihood that she will become involved as well. You can of course see that this could put her in great danger. Not to mention that you will need to spend your summer focusing on your training. The girl could be an unnecessary distraction. Surely you can see reason in this matter. The entire Order is worried that this matter will have a negative impact upon you."

"Well, it's good to know that the Order is addressing things as urgent and important as my personal life at their meetings," Harry said dryly. "You must have a lot of time on your hands, Professor."

"Matters such as these are more important than you may think, Harry," the headmaster informed Harry gravely. "The smallest thing could change the tide of the war. We worry that this relationship you are forming could have a negative affect."

"I don't know exactly what you want from me," lied Harry. He knew full well that Dumbledore wanted him to break things off with Tristan, but he wanted to hear it straight from Dumbledore himself.

"I feel it would be best if you created some distance between yourself and the young lady. Make some room and focus on your training instead."

"So you want me to break it off with her?"

"For lack of a better word…yes," admitted the elderly man.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, as though considering the idea, and finally answered, "With all due respect, sir – no."

"Pardon me?" asked Dumbledore, as though he had missed what Harry said.

"No, I won't do it," elaborated Harry clearly. He pronounced every word exactly so there could be no mistaking what he said.

"Harry, please consider…"

"I don't understand you," the green-eyed teenager interrupted. "One moment you're telling me that I'm not alone, and the war doesn't just depend on me. And the next you're saying that I can't have a girlfriend, and the outcome of the war could be completely flipped just because of my love life. How's that for an oxymoron?

"I think you need to realize, sir, that I'm a human being too. I need friends and support and love. The Dursleys haven't exactly been forth coming in giving me support and love, so I take what I can get. Tristan is offering me a chance to be normal and happy." Harry looked up at his headmaster, steady and unwavering. "You don't know what it's like to be Harry Potter. It affects everything I do and say. It stops me from making friends easily, because when people look at me they see someone famous, not a normal person. Even you headmaster – when you look at me you see a savior, not a teenager."

"That's not true, Harry," cut in Dumbledore. "I am well aware that you are still young, and in need of support and guidance."

"Just hear me out, please," was Harry's only answer. His elder leaned back with a sigh and nodded to him.

"Continue, Harry."

"Tristan – Tristan doesn't see me that way. She," Harry faltered, "she looks at me and all she sees is Harry. And she likes me just because I'm me. Not because I'm the boy-who-lived, or because I've faced down Voldemort four times. She doesn't have any illusions about who I am.

"That's why I won't break things off with her, sir. She's one of the few things I can rely on that isn't related to the war, or my fame, or anything like that. And right now, that's what I need."

"It is your decision, my boy. I do wish that you would at least consider a little more what the consequences of this relationship may be."

Harry nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. He had the sinking feeling that everything he had tried to say had passed over Dumbledore's head unnoticed.

"Is that everything, sir? I would really like to be getting home."

"That is all that I needed to speak to you about," confirmed the professor. "You won't start your lessons with Professor Snape until Tuesday, but you will begin your training with Alastor Moody tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Harry stood wearily. The headmaster reached into his desk and pulled out a lion pendant strung on a leather string. It was small and, when tucked under a shirt, it could go by unnoticed.

"This is an emergency portkey. If you are ever in danger, simply hold this in your hand and say 'Fawks.' It will bring you directly to the Hogwarts hospital wing. If you say 'home' it will now take you to your room at number 4 Privet drive."

"Thank you, sir. Have a nice day. _Home._"

Professor Dumbledore sat in silence for several minutes after Harry had departed. He stared at the spot that Harry had disappeared from, consternation lining his face.

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Harry arrived in his small bedroom, reeling from the sensation of the portkey. He did, however, manage to keep on his feet that time around. He hung the portkey around his neck, holding it for a minute to examine the lion hanging on the end. It was a typical Gryffindor lion, which made him smile somewhat woefully.

Sighing, the teenager looked around his room, a bit at a loss. He was still overwhelmed from his impassioned 'discussion' with Dumbledore. But really, the idea of breaking up with Tristan now, when she was almost all he had…

Harry rubbed his forehead with a groan. Suddenly it seemed like his room was closing in on him, making it harder to breathe, and Harry felt the itching urge to get out of the house. Within minutes he had exited his room, clambered down the stairs and left the house through the front door. He pointedly ignored his aunt screeching behind him, demanding to know how and when he had arrived home.

It was early afternoon, and the sun was hot on his back as he strode to the shade of the park. Light shone through the leaves, dappling the path before him. Harry stopped in the shade of a tree near the open field where Tris and her friends were playing a game of football (i.e. soccer - for all you Canadians and Americans out there). He sat on the browning grass and watched them from a distance, deep in thought.

"Moping, Potter?" a smooth voice interrupted his musings. Harry jerked around for a moment, disorientated, before he remembered that any order member would be disguised or invisible while guarding him. The voice was undeniably Snape's.

"Yep," Harry answered, inwardly exasperated. The man just didn't know when to give up! "All day I sit around moping. It's a favourite past time of mine, sir."

"Don't take that attitude with _me_, Potter. Show some respect for those who are better than you," snarled the black haired man. Harry didn't even bother to turn and look at the professor. What was the point? The man was invisible anyway. Lazily, Harry smiled, imagining what it would look like to the muggles around them if he suddenly started to argue with Snape.

"And what attitude do you think I am taking, sir?"

"You positively drip with arrogance, sarcasm, and laziness, Potter. Obviously it is beyond your ability to do something productive with your time, seeing that you have reposed yourself rather lethargically on the grass that has been-" here he paused before continuing disdainfully, "-_defiled _by all manner of disgusting creatures."

Harry rolled his eyes at the unnecessary description. "I've had a busy morning," was the only reply he gave.

"Well," snapped Snape. "That certainly excuses you. This may come as a surprise, Potter, but we are in the middle of a war. Perhaps this has never occurred to you, but in general, war does not allow people to sit and rest because they've had a busy morning."

Harry stiffened, taking offence from Snape's comment. "I'm not exactly being included in your little parties with the 'old crowd,' sir. As far as _they_ are concerned, the best thing for me to do is what I'm doing now; not getting involved. Many people would be delighted to hear that all I'm doing is sitting around."

"They are fools," countered Snape immediately. "As are you. If you think that this war will pass quickly, Potter, you are badly mistaken. You should be spending every available moment preparing for what is to come. If you want to be ready when the time comes, you should stop wasting time on frivolous activities like these."

"These 'frivolous activities' are what keeps me going everyday, professor. Knowing that life can go on, and be enjoyable, is more encouraging to me than you can possibly understand."

"Ridiculous," muttered the older man.

Harry chuckled humorlessly, and picked at the grass before him. "What exactly do you want me to be? An adult? A warrior? A martyr?" Harry stared challengingly into the ground (it was hard to look at someone who wasn't visible). The teenager took a deep breath before continuing. "A murderer?"

Silence filled the air behind him. Apparently there wasn't much to say to a comment like that.

"That's not me, sir. That's not the way I want my life to be. But I don't have much choice in the matter. So I'm going to enjoy what I have, when I have it. I'm smart enough to know that it won't last forever."

Harry stood, tired of trying to explain himself. If they didn't get it, then there was nothing that he could do about it. He marched off toward his friends, leaving Snape and the shade of the tall oak tree behind for the light of the football field.

Tris spun, kicking the ball high in the air over the heads of the opposite team. Yells of dismay arose when the goalie fumbled the ball, allowing it to trickle through his fingers. Tristan raised her fist in victory, laughing at the sky. She caught sight of Harry from the corner of her eye and jogged over to him, kissing him softly.

Snape remained in the darkness of the shade, curling his lip at the display in disgust, still pondering the words Harry had whispered as he walked away.

"It's not me."

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AT3: One final note for my dear readers – I am very sorry for the wait. I'm afraid that I hit a bit of a writers block during the conversation between Dumbledore and Harry. I'm still not entirely pleased with it. I hope you enjoyed it in any case. Hopefully the next one will be out sooner.

REMEMBER I want to know what your favourite book is. Those who answer will get a chapter dedicated to them – whether they are signed reviewers or not.

Smile ;)

Jasperite


	7. Be Like That

Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters and situations are not mine, or the words to 3 Doors Down's Be Like That.

AT: I'm very sorry for the wait. I know that you just want to read the stinking chapter already, but I feel that my readers deserve an explanation. I have been drenched in emergencies for the last few weeks. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. I let that affect the time spent on my writing, so this got out weeks later than I wanted. A sincere apology to everyone who waited for this chapter for so long.

On a brighter note, thing should go faster from now on. Enjoy the Chapter!

This chapter goes to **Estora **and** Smurkle Snap**!

Chapter 7 : Be Like That

Training started the next day. Harry's brief respite the night before had given him only the slightest of chances to wind down. He had taken the opportunity of being with all of his friends to explain that he was participating in a confidential school project, and wouldn't have a lot of time during the day to spend with them on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

They had, of course, teased him about the project and tried to get him to explain it. They had quickly given up, though, when they figured out that he wasn't going to budge on the subject.

Monday morning broke into daylight and cloudy skies. Harry had awoken early from nerves. He had realized with a start the night before that no one had told him the exact time that Professor Moody was arriving at, which meant that he needed to be constantly on his guard. If Moody was teaching you never knew what could happen. Harry half expected to be jumped on if he walked out of the house.

But Harry worried in vain. At nine o'clock in the morning, a knock came pounding on the door, rough and impatient. Harry raced his relatives to the door, swinging it open and ushering his trainer in before they even had a chance to squawk at the indignity of having a 'freak' at their door.

"Right then," Moody commented, looking Harry over with a critical eye. He nodded abruptly and lead Harry into the living room. Harry saw Aunt Petunia grimacing after them from the corner of his eye, but couldn't be bothered to comment on it. Once in the living room, Moody turned to Harry and began to speak.

"If this training is going to work, you're going to have to listen to me at all time, understand? I've got some stuff planned out, but it's goin' to take some obedience. Constant Vigilance!" he barked. "I'm going to keep you on your toes, boy.

"Now, for my parts of the training I'm taking you to the auror training courts. You'll hate it, but don't complain to me. I don't want to hear it."

Harry felt a flush of excitement rising in him. The auror training courts! That was certainly beyond the parts of the wizarding world that he was familiar with. But would Dumbledore really allow him to leave Surrey? Harry wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

When Harry raise the question to Moody it was simply waved off. "I can't very well train you here, can I? Any physical or magical training would be noticed immediately, and the last thing you need is to be noticed. And as far as being Harry Potter goes…" Mad-eye grinned, which was an eerie and slightly grim sight. "That's what concealment and disguise charms are for, aren't they?"

A flick of the wand later and Harry was blond haired, blue eyed, and scarless. Moody gestured towards the teenager's forehead. "That charm only works on curse scars for a few hours. We'll need to renew it every so often."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement as Moody reached into his pocket and pulled out a odd looking silvery device. "Grab hold, boy."

Harry's thoughts suddenly caught up with him and he gave the portkey a suspicious look.

"Well?" Moody shook the portkey impatiently.

"What did you teach us in our first class of fourth year?" Harry demanded. Moody chuckled.

"Smart boy – though you should have asked me that before I had even walked in the door. Constant Vigilance!" he shouted, still clutching the portkey. "I didn't teach you at all," the scarred man responded to Harry's question. "I was stuck in my trunk for most of the year."

Harry nodded in acceptance and reached out to touch the portkey.

A short bout of nausea later, the odd-looking pair was striding through the halls of Eamon Auror Training Subdivision. It was only a small section of the Auror Academy's various facilities, but was immensely important. It provided both full-blooded aurors and the trainees with a place to exercise and prepare, and was used frequently during the auror classes in the training years. Harry glance about with awe and some apprehension when Moody informed him that it was called "Eats" for short, in reference not only to it's name, but also to the number of auror trainees it had eaten up and swallowed never to be seen again.

Harry was sure this was an exaggeration, but one can never be too careful. He followed closely behind Moody, careful to never lose sight of the veteran auror.

Harry spent much of the day merely being shown around, and being introduced to the influential people who worked there. He was established as Darrin Porter, a distant, visiting relative of Moody's, who was interested in learning the ropes of the Auror Academy.

Harry's head was spinning by the end of the day from all of the new information that he was trying to absorb. Name, ideas, techniques and skills flew in one ear and out the other. Moody certainly didn't take his time, every moment there was something new to remember.

The day ended at half past four, with another portkey and a warning that Moody would see him next week, and he'd better keep up with the small exercises that Moody had given him. By the time Harry returned to the Dursley's living room, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest.

Only the thought of Tristan waiting for him to show up kept him from lying down on the couch beside him to sort out the day. It felt like it had been forever since he'd really gotten a chance to spend quality time with her.

Harry shook his head to clean out the cobwebs, and left the Dursley's house once more, this time to find Tristan.

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"You've _never_ played with cards before?" Tristan turned to blink incredulously at her boyfriend. "Isn't that, like, physically impossible?"

Harry shrugged hopelessly, watching Del shuffle the deck of cards that Kurt had scrounged out of one of the many boxes still sprawled across the Lindells' home. "Never really had the chance. It's not like the Dursleys are going to invite me to play a game with them, after all."

Tristan continues to blink, shell-shocked, at Harry. Slowly the corners of her mouth inched up the side of her face, resulting in one of the more evil smiles that Harry had been subject to in his life. This was actually quite the feat, considering that he had come face to face with Voldemort and Snape on several occasions. But no, Harry decided apprehensively. Their evil smiles weren't even in the same _league_ as Tristan's.

"So what are we going to play?" questioned Matt idly. He was lying on the floor, eyes closed in relaxation.

"Mow!" declared Tristan. "We are playing Mow!"

"What?" three confused voices chorused in reply. Tristan laughed wickedly, capturing the deck of cards from Del.

"Kurt! We need another deck of cards!"

A loud groan answered her demand. "Why? You're only playing with four people. On deck should be plenty!"

"But we're playing Mow."

"Again?" exasperation laced Kurt's voice. "Haven't you overplayed that game yet?"

"Yes, but they've never played it before, which is more to the point."

Kurt appeared in the doorway to give the teenagers before him an appraising glance. "Well then," he drawled gleefully. "I shall find another deck." His smile mirrored that of his sister.

By now Del, Matt, and Harry were all alert and cautious. They watched suspiciously as Tristan dealt out seven cards for each of them. Kurt came in, already shuffling the second deck. "Deal me in," he commanded. "I'm playing."

Soon they were set up around the coffee table in the Lindell's living room. The three newcomers to the game looked expectantly at Tristan and her brother, waiting for them to explain the rules.

"Okay," began Tris in a business like tone, "Rule number one: if you want to ask a question, say "point of order." When you're done, you say "end point." Rule two: no talking about the rules. Got it?"

She didn't wait for their replies, but simply motored on ahead. "The game works like this: you can lay any card of the same suit or number as the card on the top of the pile. For example, if the top card is a nine of clubs, you can either lay a nine, or any club. Yes?"

They nodded and Tristan let slip another cruel smile. "Excellent. The game of Mow starts to the dealers' left."

Kurt, sitting at Tristan's left, was first to lay, setting down the first card, a seven. "Have a nice day!" He chirped cheerfully to Del, who was sitting beside him.

"What?" she asked in confusion. Tristan reach over and slammed two cards down in front of Del. "Asking questions and failure to say 'Thank you.'"

"Why am I getting cards?" demanded Del. She was awarded another card. Del opened her mouth again, but Matt reached over and shut her up.

"Ah…Point of order?" Harry put in tentatively. Tristan smiled at him and lay her cards down. "Yes, Harry?"

"Why…" he started, but Tris interrupted him with a smirk.

"One moment, 'kay, Harry?" she reached out and began to distribute yet more cards to her friends. "Touching cards!"

Upon their failure to put down their cards, she continued to hand out cards until they figured out their problem.

"You've got to be kidding me," howled Dell in disbelief. "This is impossible! How many unknown rules are there in this game?"

"More than you will ever know," was Kurt's smug reply.

"Aargh!"

"Are you done asking questions?" questioned Tris. "Because we should really get back to the game."

"Wait! We get cards when we do something wrong, right?" Harry waited briefly for confirmation. "And you won't tell what we can or can't do?"

"Yep!"

Harry stared at Tristan, catching the look of unholy amusement in her eyes. He informed her dryly, "No offense meant, but you are a bad person."

"Hell yeah! And you love every minute of it, don't you?" Tristan chuckled at him delightedly. Harry had to grin at his girlfriend, and leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Does that love mean I get cut a little slack in this idiotic game?"

"No!" cried Tris, drawing back to give him an offended gaze. "The nerve of you, taking advantage of your girlfriend like that! You should be ashamed!" She sniffed and handed him a card. "For being a jerk!"

"What!"

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The game had continued on, continuously being interrupted by indignant shrieks and confused errors. By the time Matt had triumphantly won the game (to the frustration of both Kurt and Tristan), Del had almost a full deck in her hand and Harry wasn't much better off.

Tristan took off after the game to the kitchen, and returned with several cups of hot cocoa and popcorn in hand. The group settled in, trying to return to a relaxed state after their hyper and somewhat insane card game.

"Hey, Del?" Harry addressed the blond girl as Tristan handed out the cups of hot cocoa.

"Hm?" Del hummed in response, taking a blissful sip of her drink.

"Not to be nosy or anything, but I was wondering where Piers has been lately. I haven't seen him around with Dudley at all this summer."

Del sat up straight at the mention of her brother. "You haven't heard?"

Tristan handed Harry his cup of hot cocoa and slipped onto the couch next to him. She leaned against him, adjusting her position so he could slip his free arm around her waist. Once settled, Harry looked back to Del, frowning in confusion. "Heard what? I was just curious as to where he's been. Normally by this time in the summer he would have already given me a black eye. But I haven't seen him around at all."

"I thought the entire neighbourhood would have known by now," Del's normally cheerful voice sounded suspiciously close to being bitter. "The idiot was caught dealing drugs at the beginning of the summer, 'bout two weeks ago. He's in a youth detention facility in Brighton. He'll be staying there for most of the summer, and we think that he'll be sent to St. Brutus' for the next school year."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking. He took a moment to let the news sink in. Piers had always bullied him with Dudley, so it was hard to sympathize with his situation. "I can't really say that I'm sorry…"

"I wouldn't expect you to be," Del interrupted brusquely. She gave Harry a forced smile. "I'm not even sure that _I'm_ sorry about it. I know that he's a bully, and I've never really been that close to him. He was getting really bad, and I think that we all knew – mum, dad, and I – that he needed a good kick in the arse to set him straight."

"Still, he's your brother," Tris put in. "And it sucks that he's putting your family in that situation."

A silence fell over the room. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was one spent in the comfort of friends with all the time in the world. Matt was the one to break it, a few minutes later.

"If you could be anyone in the world – anyone at all – who would you be?"

"Well. That's a loaded question isn't it? How long would we be this person for?" Kurt asked.

Matt bit his lower lip in thought for a moment before replying. "One day."

"Only one day?" Del grinned. "Catherine Zeta-Jones!"

"Why?" demanded Matt, with a disgusted look on his face. "If you could be anyone in the world, why on earth would you chose to be her?"

"She's cool!" Del defended her pick. "She's rich, she's an up-and-coming actress, and her movie _Blue Juice_ was awesome!"

"It was ridiculous! Some guy deciding whether he wanted to be with her or travel around the world without her. How bloody idiotic can you get?" Matt argued.

"It was not idiotic, it was romantic. And don't you swear at me, Matt Shetterly!"

"All right," Tris cut in. "So Del would be Catherine Zeta-Jones. What about you Matt?"

"I reckon that I'd be the headmaster at my school," he correctly interpreted the looks of disbelief on his friends' faces. "No, I'm not crazy. I just figure that if I was the headmaster, I could give those teachers that hated me hell. They'd never know what hit them!"

"And you, Harry?" Tristan smiled up at him from where she reclined against his chest. "Who would you be?"

Harry closed his eyes, thinking about the question. He would want to be someone who didn't have people gawking at their forehead. He would want to be someone with a family, a mum and dad, someone who didn't need to worry about Death Eaters, wars, and Dark Lords. He wanted to be…normal.

"I guess…" voice hesitant, Harry began, "I guess I would just want to be the kid with two parents who loved him. The one who didn't need to worry about anything more significant than getting their homework done on time."

He smiled a little bitterly at the young woman next to him. Tris had the look on her face that said she was reading more into his words than he wanted her to.

"If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to spend one day in their shoes. If I could be like that-"

"What would you do?" inquired Tristan. Harry sighed inwardly at the question. It was such a large issue to answer. _What would I do? _But the answer was right there in front of him. He would do the things he never had the chance to do.

"Just normal things," a wave of regret hit Harry when he replied to Tristan's question. He had lost so much in his childhood. All those normal things he never had and never would do ate at him. If he could be like that for one day…

"I would just do normal things."

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AT2: If you were confused by the card game, don't be surprised – You were supposed to be. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you didn't, I'd be happy to hear some constructive criticism. I'm here to improve my writing, so comments are appreciated!

Smile;)

-Japerite


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